(no subject)
Seems like so many thing keep me from getting online regularly anymore. This time it's a nasty, nasty cold that is probably actually bronchitis.
I'm too helpful for my own damned good. I'm at work to help with the year end stuff, but I really should be just curled up in bed. I think I'm going to hate the taste of even the good cough drops once this thing is over. I sound like Thomas used to, choking on my own breath. Blarg.
And I just noticed the painting on the wall is crooked and now it is going to bother me but I can't really be bothered to get up and fix it. So it's just going to hang there, taunting me, until I stop hacking up lung material long enough to work up the energy to poke it.
I miss Mare. I know most of you who actually still read this journal have no idea who that is, so I'm sorry. But I do. I need to remember to get that package out to her when I mail Josh his couch legs.
I hate my procrastination some days.
Look, I'm procrastinating now, because focusing is harder than it really should be right now.
I would rather spend my time crafting and taking care of my friends than most anything else. I wonder if there's a way, short of winning the lottery, to make that actually a feasible career.
I wish.
Back to the grindstone and maybe a little music to keep me from slumping over in a sick puddle at my desk.
I'm too helpful for my own damned good. I'm at work to help with the year end stuff, but I really should be just curled up in bed. I think I'm going to hate the taste of even the good cough drops once this thing is over. I sound like Thomas used to, choking on my own breath. Blarg.
And I just noticed the painting on the wall is crooked and now it is going to bother me but I can't really be bothered to get up and fix it. So it's just going to hang there, taunting me, until I stop hacking up lung material long enough to work up the energy to poke it.
I miss Mare. I know most of you who actually still read this journal have no idea who that is, so I'm sorry. But I do. I need to remember to get that package out to her when I mail Josh his couch legs.
I hate my procrastination some days.
Look, I'm procrastinating now, because focusing is harder than it really should be right now.
I would rather spend my time crafting and taking care of my friends than most anything else. I wonder if there's a way, short of winning the lottery, to make that actually a feasible career.
I wish.
Back to the grindstone and maybe a little music to keep me from slumping over in a sick puddle at my desk.