Creep

So I've had a string of days, probably approaching a full week now, where I have behaved like a total creep. Not intentionally, mind you, though I can certainly be a brat when I want to. These days of jerkiness have been fraught with unintentional, accidental, or just purely oblivious poor behavior.
In at least 4 specific instances that I can recall, I did and said things that would have made me cringe or scowl if I had seen another person say or do them. Stupid things. Thoughtless things. Things including, but not limited to, taking a phone call while looking for a book in the Rogers Park library. (I got escorted out of the building for that one, but not before being shouted down by the librarian for not only talking on my phone in the library, but for being so frazzled that I almost left the library with an un-checked-out book). I said some funny-to-me things to someone I barely knew, and got poked in the ribs by my Hubs and gently reminded in the car on the way home that it is best not to talk politics with people whose political leanings are undisclosed. I told someone something at work that was pure gossip, and not very kind. Oh, and I botched an introduction to a person with whom I hope to become friends, though I wouldn't blame her if she now thinks I'm a self-aggrandizing weirdo. When I told Hubs about that poorly-executed interaction, he just shook his head and said "Yeah, that was probably a bad idea. Hopefully she will give you another chance."

My natural inclination is to figure out a way to "fix" all those situations. Go and apologize to the librarians and insist that I am not usually a jerk. Apologize to my colleagues, and vow to never gossip again. Call the new friends (hopefully new friends) and try to explain myself. And I guess I could do those things. It wouldn't necessarily be wrong to try to make amends. But sometimes those kinds of apologies just end up making everything worse. Exaggerating situations that everyone may be "over" by now. Everyone but me, of course, who will likely indulge in self-flagellation about my stupidity for years. No, seriously, I still wring my hands melodramatically about stupid things I did in HIGH SCHOOL.

Bleh. I need to get over myself. All of those instances of bad behavior could likely have been avoided if I were not so focused on myself, if I were not distracted and trying to multitask, if I had not been trying to sound smart, or helpful, or "in the know".

I know a lot of people hate Mondays. They are not my favorite day of the week either. Even if I loved my job, Mondays still mean that Hubs leaves again for Quad Cities for the week and I am left to my own devices for a few days. But secretly I sort of look forward to Mondays, because each Monday is like a tiny little "do over". A fresh start to the week. A chance to do better, behave more lovingly, and keep a tighter lid on my mouth. If we could just get some nice spring-like weather over here, I would feel even more excited about starting a new week.