I think I’m turning into the architect version of Grumpy Cat. Or perhaps I’m finally getting old.

Wait. Old? That can’t be it. I’m still a sprightly almost 54, although my lower back at the moment would tell you sprightly isn’t the right word.

However, I have noticed that I’ve been quite fussy as of late. I seem to have become one with my car horn recently, like I’m driving through Manhattan. Luckily the Sportage I bought a year and a half ago has a horn that sounds like it means business. And while I do miss the sportiness of my old GTI, honking at someone while behind the wheel felt like the equivalent of leaning out the window and just yelling “Hey Gurl Hey!”

So as I was sharing with James what I was considering for this blog post, I realized I wasn’t coming up with anything fun. Or uplifting. Or just plain silly. Everything just sounded grumpy. Hmmmm…

Maybe what’s going on in the world just has me in a funk. Between Putin going crazy in Ukraine, Texas politicians trying to ride to re-election on the backs of trans kids and their families, and state governments censoring books and what teachers are allowed to teach, perhaps there’s just a bit too much funk floating around the atmosphere.

Not to mention we had to switch to daylight savings time this week. Really? You made me lose an hour of sleep on Sunday? At the stage of the game, this girl needs all the beauty sleep he can get. As Truvy would tell you: “It takes a lot of effort to look this good.” And with the alarm clock going off at 5 (but really 4) for 6 am phone calls, getting adjusted has felt more challenging than usual. And do I really need an extra hour of afternoon sun during summertime 100-degree days?

See. There I go. Grump. Grump. Grump. I may have to get me some bermuda shorts, sandals, and black socks so I look appropriate while I’m standing on my lawn and yelling. Although since I am a grumpy architect, I supposed I should be yelling at them to stay off the beautifully designed Miesian terrace.

At least until I’m in a better mood!