Today, I felt anxious.
Today, I felt on edge.
Oh, I had reason. Today was my big day in the publishing cycle, where I had publications to put together from scratch and get them out the door to press.
But! There wasn’t anything different or unusual this time.
Actually, things should have been smoother sailing than in previous months.
No running-around-hair-on-fire, really.
And yet, that’s exactly how I felt. Running-around-hair-on-fire.
Which is an amusing concept. My hair is rather short at the moment. There’s not much to burn.
Not really the point.
I wondered about it today. I even voiced the feeling — “I’m really on edge for some reason. And I know I shouldn’t be. There’s no reason to be.”
And then it clicked.
It was the morning coffee.
I’d had a bit more coffee than normal this morning.
I hadn’t slept well last night. Sometimes, when it’s hot, the body never quite gets quiet. I was restless, tossing and turning. The alarm went off, and I wanted to ignore it completely.
And then the coffee began.
I had two and a half mugs before I left home. I got a jumbo sized coffee at the cafe at the office, as I’d passed out on the light rail up from downtown.
I had more caffeine in the system than I normally did. I didn’t get any of the free coffee from the machine in the breakroom — though, truthfully, what that machine produces hardly counts as coffee.
No wonder I was irritable and anxious and jumpy.
Now, maybe I’ll crash. Or something.
Wouldn’t be a bad thing.