Day three of a hopefully only six day funk, near a week is quite long enough to make me totally disconsolate about almost everything. Would that a quick diversion into the happenstances elsewhere in the world would be a tonic, but seems the globe is suffering similar depressive episodes.
An acquaintance suggested it was some reflection of a Mercury Retrograde, one of those wholly impossible circumstances that those with a bent towards the psychic are inclined to muster in times of universal downers and disruptions. Personally I find the horoscope amusing, although sometimes spookily prophetic, but I suppose any casting of the metaphoric runes must prove alarmingly right on occasion, just ask Julius Caeser.
My own theory is that it is just November, and the nearer we get to the Eleventh the more our collective psyches dips into the negative. Mine own spirit reacts to that particular occasion with extreme affinity, having been long schooled to hold that date above all others in the misery of humanity.