Bacon heals all wounds

This morning I woke up cranky. That is pretty rare, but I did fall asleep a little cranky, and it has been raining since I turned 40. Okay, no, that's not true but it has been raining, or at least dark and cloudy, for about a week now, and not much relief in sight. As I stepped out of my car last night to see that the garbage-people had left most of our trash on the curb, unhappy with the bagging or something... and felt the tree hammer my head with giant drops combined from hundreds of other little drops, I couldn't help but whine. Everyone is complaining, and honestly, however much I prefer this to snow, it feels like a giant bait-and-switch.
I had convinced myself that once it got up to 50 degrees and stayed there, that all would be well. But it's a constant 52 or so, and dark, and foggy, and gloomy- and the tree here is dropping crap all over the place, which is sticking to everything, because it's wet.
I have nothing to complain about in this cushy life of mine, but really, this... sucks. All I can do is gaze longingly at my garden, perfectly placed so as to be viewable from the kitchen window... and sulk.
Soon, I'll feel better- lunch today with a favorite friend, and dinner with another tonight... a weekend without too many plans, and a crazy, happy Sunday ahead at the parish. We made it to payday without bouncing anything, and now we have enough money to buy bacon for the next two weeks. I'm in a good place, overall. Maybe I'll just a mantra to get me through the gloomy moments. "Baconnnnnnn. Fridge full of baaaaaaconnnnn..." Mmmm, I feel better.