Last night = MUD

Somewhere about 6pm last night I became C R A N K Y. There's no good reason. The children were wonderful, I knew what we were having for dinner (I hate planning dinner.), I was working on a sewing project that was deceptively simple (still waiting for the 'i'm difficult' shoe to drop--it always does, but usually not until I've pieced it all together only to realize, "OH!, so that's what that meant!"), and my favorite tango class of the week was in less than an hour.

*hormones, ugh*

So, I went to class hoping it would lift my mood. It didn't. I couldn't walk on the beat and was just a half a second behind nearly every time...even with D'Arienzo. How can I miss the beat with D'Arienzo? I stumbled through class and contemplated skipping the practica, but many of the leaders I enjoy dancing with were there, and it's the only alternative dance I attend all week and I like that little bit of extra spice. So I stayed. And the leaders were wonderful, as they most often are. And I Was Not.

But here's the interesting thing. I saved one of the leaders I most like dancing with until my mood picked up a bit. And at the end, we stepped onto the floor, and half a song in I had to stop. I just couldn't fake it with him. I couldn't pretend I heard something I didn't, couldn't pretend I felt something I didn't, couldn't be in his arms and not give him the very best of me. I couldn't give him MUD. So, I ended the tanda halfway into the first song with lots of apologies. He was gracious, as always. A true gentleman.

This brought home something that has been percolating in my head lately. It is NOT better to dance even if I don't feel it or like it. I used to feel so desperate for the dance that I would take anything I was handed, and now.... not so much. Now, I am beginning to feel like I'd rather not dance than dance something untrue, unkind or half-hearted. I think this is a good sign.