This is what's going on:
I have already put in a 1/3 again of my projected work week this week, and there's still today left. It's lining up to be a full day, not at all like people had already put in a full week and wanted to slack off on Friday. This has been crowned by my favorite long-winded dictator recording a Guinness-qualifying 22 minutes. I know what you're thinking, and no, it's NOT likely that he forgot he had the recorder on and is actually eating dinner or watching "House, M.D." It's sad. He did this at 11 p.m. at night, too. I have to think he has children but no wife.
I feel strongly, but it could be improper medication, that I should come up with a spreadsheet to find out how much I'm making from these guys, and which one is killing me the most. Except the long-winded one. I'm stuck with him. No one else will take him.
ALMOST all of my stuff is at my mother's house now. I can't get it organized, mostly because of the aforementioned too much work. This is also why the long-planned garage sale (Part Deux) has not happened yet and why I haven't been back to Emily and Harry's. Too Much Work is also why I am not lounging around with![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
polychromatic22 in a swimming pool right now.
But I was talking about stuff. Just like post-Katrina, I find that I DO NOT WANT most of this, but I have no choice but to try to slog through it because I'm missing things like my Social Security card and new credit card. I've been trying to think of ways of sorting it, and I'm about down to "On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do I give a damn?"
I've managed to put in my walking, but other than that, eating, and sleeping, I'm only working. Ok, I slacked off for an hour or two yesterday and read slacktivist, naturally. I regretted it when I ended up going to bed at 2 a.m.
I can't update my ipod because it's full, and I haven't gotten around to rearranging the iTunes so it will sync the new stuff and take out the old. Something else to TRY to get around to this weekend.
I've come to at least one conclusion about "home": Home is where I get to say something about the control of the environment. I turned on the outside lights by accident the other day, while trying to find a different light. I thought, I'll leave them on, it might be interesting (in the sunroom at night) to see what's going on outside. My mother immediately turned them off. Did she think she'd turned them on and forgotten to turn them off? Did she think I'd not meant to turn them on and didn't know how to turn them off? Did she just not want them on? Doesn't matter. Her house. She does say things sometimes, like, you left the bathroom light on again, but I assume that's because she doesn't want to trudge upstairs to turn it off herself.
I remember noticing this for the first time when I was driving a friend somewhere and pinched his fingers in the window. He'd rolled down the window and I just heard a hiss, assumed responsibility for keeping the windows rolled up, and automatically reached for the switch. My environment. My right and responsibility.
When it comes to that, it's better here than anywhere else, even though it's not perfect.
I have already put in a 1/3 again of my projected work week this week, and there's still today left. It's lining up to be a full day, not at all like people had already put in a full week and wanted to slack off on Friday. This has been crowned by my favorite long-winded dictator recording a Guinness-qualifying 22 minutes. I know what you're thinking, and no, it's NOT likely that he forgot he had the recorder on and is actually eating dinner or watching "House, M.D." It's sad. He did this at 11 p.m. at night, too. I have to think he has children but no wife.
I feel strongly, but it could be improper medication, that I should come up with a spreadsheet to find out how much I'm making from these guys, and which one is killing me the most. Except the long-winded one. I'm stuck with him. No one else will take him.
ALMOST all of my stuff is at my mother's house now. I can't get it organized, mostly because of the aforementioned too much work. This is also why the long-planned garage sale (Part Deux) has not happened yet and why I haven't been back to Emily and Harry's. Too Much Work is also why I am not lounging around with
polychromatic22 in a swimming pool right now.But I was talking about stuff. Just like post-Katrina, I find that I DO NOT WANT most of this, but I have no choice but to try to slog through it because I'm missing things like my Social Security card and new credit card. I've been trying to think of ways of sorting it, and I'm about down to "On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do I give a damn?"
I've managed to put in my walking, but other than that, eating, and sleeping, I'm only working. Ok, I slacked off for an hour or two yesterday and read slacktivist, naturally. I regretted it when I ended up going to bed at 2 a.m.
I can't update my ipod because it's full, and I haven't gotten around to rearranging the iTunes so it will sync the new stuff and take out the old. Something else to TRY to get around to this weekend.
I've come to at least one conclusion about "home": Home is where I get to say something about the control of the environment. I turned on the outside lights by accident the other day, while trying to find a different light. I thought, I'll leave them on, it might be interesting (in the sunroom at night) to see what's going on outside. My mother immediately turned them off. Did she think she'd turned them on and forgotten to turn them off? Did she think I'd not meant to turn them on and didn't know how to turn them off? Did she just not want them on? Doesn't matter. Her house. She does say things sometimes, like, you left the bathroom light on again, but I assume that's because she doesn't want to trudge upstairs to turn it off herself.
I remember noticing this for the first time when I was driving a friend somewhere and pinched his fingers in the window. He'd rolled down the window and I just heard a hiss, assumed responsibility for keeping the windows rolled up, and automatically reached for the switch. My environment. My right and responsibility.
When it comes to that, it's better here than anywhere else, even though it's not perfect.
