It struck me this morning, on my slightly forced 2-mile walk, how every day's mood can vary and flex. I'm seemingly fickle as hell, moody as fuck, or whatever phrase might best represent the shifting aspect of my mood each day, even each hour. This morning, I rose from a restless sleep, potentially due to the impact of an impacted digestive tract. Popcorn. It's my nemesis, or perhaps the vegetable oil dominance in its production is. Whatever the case, it's become my new 'hangover' routine after a month of frequent movie outings and impulse purchases of unique offerings at GOBM, such as 'caramel cheese' and 'back pepper' seasoned. Their intestinal journey routinely creates a bloated discomfort I've not experienced previously. My morning walk exposed additional opportunities for testing my tolerance for frustration. A repeated attempt to write using dictation while mobile failed due to the background noise of dog walkers, loud talkers and student droppers. For some reason, one that fails to restrain everyone else walking with an earbud, I get embarrassed when dictating as I walk past others. I sense or project negative judgment, as if the 30 seconds of narration they might hear as I pass by would somehow result in an eye-rolling rejection of my character or value as a fellow human being. Where the hell does this come from? Oh, right. Childhood. All that aside, what felt like a rocky start was accompanied (once aborting the dictation attempt) by the Daily Stoic podcast's reminder of the shared stoic and zen principle that suffering is thought, and control is constrained to response. It's all about how I choose to process it. The loss of sleep, the uncomfortable reaction of my body to popcorn, and the annoyance of surrounding school traffic that I was a part of some 10 years ago. It's all subjective presumptions, assumptions, and judgments being made. Just like my assessment of how I might look to others who likely don't give me a second thought, let alone a first. Yesterday, I felt content. This morning, I felt contempt. Maybe it all boils down to a mental mispronunciation. The remainder of my day included closing the three obsoleted checking accounts, a productive huddle with Pamela at the Great Bear, setting forth some business processes and frameworks heading into 2025, and a deep dive into QuickBooks with Katie in the afternoon. With actions taken and action items identified, simplification is underway. Cardz with the usual suspects included lots of laughter along with a sleeping dog snoring in my arms. I decided this evening to pull the plug on the planned "End Well" volunteering trip to LA due to several factors, the biggest being my mom's treatment schedule colliding with it. Although I could have stretched things to make it work and coordinated options for her oversight, it's not what feels like the right priority. It's a gut feeling. I'm following it. And it's not from popcorn.