Suggestions welcomed!

I know this is way past the original 71 days. I'm thinking of beginning again. 1 day at a time right now though. Maybe I should have done that in the first place.

At any rate, to continue on my original path away from emotional opacity: I'm sad today. There's very little rhyme or reason to my wistfullness. It just, well, kind of is I guess. But although surely transient, it's persistent. My head hurts, my ears ring, my limbs are heavy. I'm sleepy. My usual bubbly smile is all sticky soap rings on the floor. The circles are imperfect. The colors, once each with its own story, become this garbled narrative of sorts. Don't get me started on the stickiness.

So now what?

I'm not sad often, at least without reason. I never really have time for generalized sadness. Melancholia is a process that typically gets shelved due to my impatience and lack of real attention span. But, here I am, with this flu of lugubriousness, sulking in bed, achy, cranky, and in no mood to deal with anything outside of a dream sequence.

What do I do for myself? What's the chicken soup here? Where's the catchy instructional "feed a cold, feed a fever"? (I'm part Italian) I check my first aid kit of panacea.

Shopping: (Read - Why my apartment looks like a storage facility.) "I don't want anything."
Ice Cream: (Read - Why I was once almost 300 pounds.) "Not hungry."
Ducks/Birds: "The car isn't starting." "We can walk." "Yeah, you get right on that."
Girlie time: "You'll make me leave the house. I know that trick."

(You'll notice I left off beer/liquor. It is intentional. I only drink when I'm happy or rebelling. Drinking firmly pins heart to sleeve, making it a poor choice to deal with negative emotions.)

I'm trying to be kind to myself, but really, I'm not making it easy. I guess when you have a child's joy and an old soul, sometimes you get stuck with things like a teenager's stubbornness. But what do I do? How do I lovingly convince myself to either let me know what's wrong or to stop wasting this beautiful day in bed sulking in my old Pink Floyd shirt and slipper socks?

Or maybe I don't. Maybe I lovingly say "this too shall pass" and simply go back to bed. Perhaps.