Or weary, depending on how you look at it. Yesterday evening was so lovely, when I finally relaxed, and got to enjoy All Hallows Eve, all that. Then there was this persistent noise, it might almost have been metaphorical, and that was the end of the relaxed evening. I stood outside at one a.m. in my pyjamas and my cloak looking up at the stars and wondering if the faint hum I was still hearing was actually there or whether it was a symptom of my mental imbalance.
Happiness, contentment make me anxious; life has a way of beating you up just when you think it's all over. Like a horror movie, where the psychopath/zombie/cannibal
/armageddon tries to kill the protagonist one more time. The difference with real life is that it rarely lets you get off with just the one extra attempt.
On the other hand, bad days usually wring the best out of others - rainy days yield random friendly smiles and umbrellas; a timely cancellation gives you an evening off when you need it most. Of course, what with my undercurrent of misery from having to give up Snapecast, there isn't much that can cheer me up. Apart from fanfic and my curious professional ambitions. And the Spouse, pretending to be a deer. And good carrot cake.