The sun'll come out...

Is it possible to feel dubiously apprehensive? Or is it apprehensively dubious? Whatever it is, that's it - that's what I am. Feeling odd. Or glum. (No - too negative.) Frankly, I'm just not quite sure how I feel but its something strange and sickly : I'm going back to work tomorrow. I just don't know why...*
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, I'm wishing that I hadn't given up writing. Why did I do that again? I was making good money, enjoyed the work and always new where the next quid was coming from. I could have managed that career at home - looked after the kids and been here for them during the day.
Oh well. Too late now. And I can't witter on about it. Because I need to go - have to get to bed early... Because I have to go to work tomorrow. Did I mention that? Ugh.

* (actually its something to do with paying the mortgage and keeping a roof above our heads).