I have the most peculiar feeling that i might be a mote depressed. 

Nothing to pronounced.  There's no hankering for peering over the sides of a canyon nor popping my head into an oven - although due to the sheer size of it, i'd have problems fitting it in.  No just a lethargic, why did i bother to wake up in this century moment of ennui.

There are plenty of doom and gloom-laden stories to keep any pessimist (who could scream critical and jaded before mama or papa) more than occupied, and happy flicking channels with a bath sized bucket of extra-sweetened cotton candy popcorn on one side of the chair and an auto-feeder the other. And that's just for breakfast.

Even so, there's that mote of depression that simply fails to lift, and i can't place my finger on it.

Outside it's cold, grey and raining, which normaly puts me in an extremely happy mood - as long as my core body temp hovers above double figures.  The dreadful neighbours upstairs appear to be slamming the doors less.  More buses seem to be switching off their engines, despite the fall in temperatures.  The feral kids of the blocks appear to be spending less time outside - due to the cold - so peace and quiet  is more the order of the day.

For six months of the year this is the period i'm wishing (apart from christmas day and the no bus bonus) to start, more than any other.

Now it's arrived, i'm momentarily out of sorts and a mote depressed! Where is that really grey lining when you want it.