I'm in a mood

Why is it, when you say 'I'm in a mood', is it automatically assumed it's a mood with a negative connatation? Does it say something, or anything, about the human psyche? 'He's in a mood' or 'She's in one of her moods' or 'he's a bit of a moody git?' - all mean *bad* moods. But it's a Humpty-Dumpty conundrum:

Humpty-Dumpty sat on the wall
Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall
All the King's horses and all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again

So where, in that rhyme, does it mention Humpty-Dumpty being some freakish egg-human hybrid? Nowhere, and with good reason as Humpty-Dumpty was a cannon (according to some, others say the rhyme is a riddle, to which the answer is, an egg). So when it is said someone is in a mood, why does it have to be a bad mood? Surely, probablity-wise, someone is more likely to be in a good mood? Ah, that may be it then. As good moods are more frequent than bad ones, a mood is only noticed when it is a bad one?

Anyway, I'm in a mood.

There's this boy in our house. I've really no idea who he is, although he suspiciously resembles Gabriel, my middle son (who is fourteen in three weeks). But here's the thing: Gabriel spends most of his time stomping around the place, keeping himself largely to himself, hiding in his bedroom doddling and scribbling and embarking on extensive art projects that never quite get finished (he has a fetchingly decent collage of a tiger on the wall to the side of his bed; or rather half a tiger as whilst the top half is painstakingly realised in 1cm squares of coloured card, the bottom half dwindles out into basic pencil strokes) whilst listening to stuff like The Offspring and Sum 41 and Bowling for Soup.

But this Gabe-doppelganger positively struts around the place, a warming smile upon his face, a song in his heart for any weary soul he may encounter, and a trio of tiny cartoon birds circling his head and alighting upon his meaty shoulders. This creature even made me a cup of coffee this morning.

So why this transformation?

Gabe & Lian, sitting in a tree.
K. I. S. S. I. N. G.
First comes love.
Then comes co-habitation.
Then comes a little half Myanmarese-baby in a baby-carriage.

It is now official. Gabriel and Lian are boyfriend and girlfriend. Even though they had previously exchanged Valentine's Day gifts and Christmas gifts, Lian would never acknowledge that their friendship seemed to have elevated beyond really good friends. But now a further exchange - that of saliva - seems to have done the trick.

To commemorate this, I'm taking them both out for a very informal dinner tomorrow evening; just a local pub or something. I've asked Gabriel as to the description of Lian's favourite type of eatery, but he had no idea. Hopeless.

Speaking of which...

I finally got to ringing that number Colin had foisted upon me, if only to stop him pestering me about it on a half-hourly basis. I didn't really know what to expect, and what I was going to say (or rather, how I was going to say I wasn't going to pursue the matter, but thank you caller for your interest).

The lady who answered my call seemed very perky upon hearing my voice, which instantly surprised me as of course, I had not made one single favourable impression during my moribund speed-dating experience (nor had I received one). She said that she was wondering if I would call at all, then slightly chastised me in not mentioning to her at the time I had a brother. She certainly could gas: Before I'd even had chance to return her opening gambit, she'd apologised for getting my home phone number and she hoped she didn't come across as a stalker.

I didn't even know her name. Now it was my turn to apologise - I said to her, thinking quickly and tactfully, that I was sorry but I'd met quite a few people that evening and I couldn't place her from the sound of her voice. She did soundly ever-so-slightly offended by that (or it may just have been my imagination) but she did tell me her name was Sarah, which helpethed not.

She was up in my area over the course of next week, working just south of Nottingham, and wondered whether I'd be interested in meeting up for a drink and catching up?

Catching up? I'd only met this person (and for about eight minutes) a week ago, and they wanted to catch up? This whole exchange was beginning to freak me out a little, and I almost put the phone down there and then. But then she has my number. So I guess I was cornered.

So I had one of those moments where my brain and mouth dis-engage and words fall from my lips without my brain having any say in the matter. The words were: Yeah, okay. That sounds good to me.

Sarah - remaining suspiciously enthusiastic - said that obviously she'd leave the arrangements up to me as I knew the area (and she doesn't?), and that Tuesday night would probably be the best night for her as she'd obviously be a bit tired on Monday due to the drive (?). She then made a joke about me obviously not picking a nightclub as the rendevous point as she knew how I felt about dancing (???).

So I promised I'd ring her over the weekend and we said our goodbyes.

I told Colin I'd rung the number and he asked what happened. When I told him I'd gained a potential date he smiled like Jack Nicholson and slapped me too hard on the back. Nice one, big bro, he added. When I told him I was a little unsure as Sarah sounded as though she was far too familiar with my life, he just shrugged it off and told me to take it as a positive pointer towards some genuine interest in me.

Perhaps he's right. A date's a date, and I haven't had one of those for far, far too long. And the more I think about it the more enthusiastic about it I become.