Hello, McFly!?

I think I'm in a funk. Or a fog. Something fishy is going on.
Lately, I don't know where my brain is. I think I can hear it sloshing around in the brain juice in my head, but somehow the synapses are not firing.
First, a clarification: My friend Chris is not married, nor was he. He pointed this out and I promised to spread the word. Ladies (and possibly gentlemen) rejoice.
Next, perhaps I was too tough on Bad Penny. Oh, don't think I'm anxious to let him back in. But I guess I was hoping hanging out with him would snap me out of whatever hazy mood has taken over. I'm like a crafting zombie, and while the creativity is good, it's also draining. Last night after laundry and putting a few odds and ends away, I cut up even more of those plastic water bottle flowers, and I dread having to assemble the mirrors, but I know once I get started I'll feel better. I made some fans out of decks of cards whilst watching "Where the Wild Things Are" and it was only as I finally went to bed that I began to process what a little pill Max was. I'm glad he's not my child. I'm not a fan of biters, you know.
Also currently going on in my half-conscious state: I'm getting set up left and right. I know that I'm not paying too much attention, because I'm being uncharacteristically open-minded about the whole thing. Everyone has someone they want me to meet: President Brown gave me a list of boys to date and I didn't put up a fight. I just told him to keep the list and he could suggest to anyone he likes to ask me out. What? I love PBS, but I'm not sure I should give him carte blanche on my social life. A friend pushes boys my way right and left, but I kind of think it's because he wants to live vicariously through me... probably not healthy. I've been spending an inordinate amount of time working as a decoy for a friend who has a less-than-desirable admirer, which has also kept me up late several nights this week. Even my mother's cleaning lady has chimed in: "Racial. I have idea. I know a man. He is verry funny. Only problem, he have two boys already." I told her to go ahead and introduce me, because she is a kind woman and I know she is sincere, though I'm not the biggest fan of children who are not my nieces (see notation about Wild Things Max, above). I've got to snap out of this, or before you know it I'll be a mail-order bride instead of running a booming bridal consulting firm. In the words of my friends S & R, "This has got to end!"
So what's the problem? Lack of sleep? Creative overload? Office burnout? Mild depression? Who knows. Maybe someone hypnotized me and forgot to snap their fingers so I'd wake up.