I've been feeling vague all day; detached, fuzzy; the world seems subdued, and looks as if much of the color had been washed out of it. Grief? Depression? The fact that I didn't have breakfast this morning? Quite possibly the latter, as I'm feeling much better now.
Hadn't realized that my wife's grieving (mainly over the friend she lost just before Consonance, though there's more) could trigger as much of a reaction in me as it seems to have done. My Dad and Amy are coming in out of my past to haunt me again. Well, they're familiar ghosts, at least.
Zyrtec seems to have a substantial bounce-back, even after a single dose. I'll skip it, thanks; then I can have my glass of gin in the evening. Cyclobenzaprine, on the other hand, is wonderful stuff: stopped the back cramps dead, and got me a good night's sleep. Note to self: don't take it in the morning unless you intend to stay in bed all day.
For some reason I find the long, last phase of the grieving process -- acceptance, or reorganization depending on your source -- to be creatively very productive. There will be ghosts in the song, I think.