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jaeleslie at 05:07pm on 07/12/2002
jaeleslie at 05:07pm on 07/12/2002This week could be over any time now and that would be good. I went to visit the new baby yesterday, which was a fine idea, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bibliofile, just the curative magic I needed. But today I am down again.
The death of our neighbors' daughter Wednesday was in the paper yesterday, and the neighbor on the other side called me, in somewhat the same shocked condition I was in when I first heard of it. I felt sorry that I hadn't told her sooner, but I knew such bad news would travel fast and really hadn't wanted to act the sensational tale-carrying gossip. Still having some trouble working out who I can or should talk to about it, as the kindest thing seems usually not to bring it up. (My kid says I talk too much.) It's no longer at the top of the news, but it has turned murkily into a murder investigation.
Weekends are always hard for me anyway because of the inside-out schedule: I have the house to myself during the week and thus a wild chance at actually nursing myself through the obsessive-compulsive routine I must follow, in enough time to make some productive use of the day, whereas on the weekends I have to change course at any moment in accord with others, which is harder under stress, and there is always great thumping and bumping (at the moment an operating system is being reinstalled upstairs, again, accompanied by much cursing). With a teenager in the bathroom and a clean freak in the kitchen, sometimes it seems if I could just stay in bed all day it would be better. Or start over with coffee and reading every couple of hours; re-boot the day. Maybe it's the Seasonal Affective thing coming on line.
Anyhow, I had a headache and general soreness which didn't dissipate until midafternoon, so I skipped the workout today, but at least I was dressed not too long after noon. Then I was able to throw myself into working on an acnestiszine for a couple of hours, a rather big piece of memoir, before the aforesaid thumping and cursing (and "Can I download from your computer?") became a distraction. Fanac seems only marginally less pointless than anything else. Then went and stared at my drawing table for fifteen minutes, and nothing happened, except I got the pile of stuff off the chair and onto the desk.
Making a little pork roast for dinner, with rice, and curried pumpkin, and steamed savoy cabbage on the side.
bibliofile, just the curative magic I needed. But today I am down again. The death of our neighbors' daughter Wednesday was in the paper yesterday, and the neighbor on the other side called me, in somewhat the same shocked condition I was in when I first heard of it. I felt sorry that I hadn't told her sooner, but I knew such bad news would travel fast and really hadn't wanted to act the sensational tale-carrying gossip. Still having some trouble working out who I can or should talk to about it, as the kindest thing seems usually not to bring it up. (My kid says I talk too much.) It's no longer at the top of the news, but it has turned murkily into a murder investigation.
Weekends are always hard for me anyway because of the inside-out schedule: I have the house to myself during the week and thus a wild chance at actually nursing myself through the obsessive-compulsive routine I must follow, in enough time to make some productive use of the day, whereas on the weekends I have to change course at any moment in accord with others, which is harder under stress, and there is always great thumping and bumping (at the moment an operating system is being reinstalled upstairs, again, accompanied by much cursing). With a teenager in the bathroom and a clean freak in the kitchen, sometimes it seems if I could just stay in bed all day it would be better. Or start over with coffee and reading every couple of hours; re-boot the day. Maybe it's the Seasonal Affective thing coming on line.
Anyhow, I had a headache and general soreness which didn't dissipate until midafternoon, so I skipped the workout today, but at least I was dressed not too long after noon. Then I was able to throw myself into working on an acnestiszine for a couple of hours, a rather big piece of memoir, before the aforesaid thumping and cursing (and "Can I download from your computer?") became a distraction. Fanac seems only marginally less pointless than anything else. Then went and stared at my drawing table for fifteen minutes, and nothing happened, except I got the pile of stuff off the chair and onto the desk.
Making a little pork roast for dinner, with rice, and curried pumpkin, and steamed savoy cabbage on the side.