After a week of kind of blindly bumping into walls and the like, I have the weekend I need to recoup. Maybe even go to the gym, maybe? Ah, I need those endorphins released!I feel slightly bad because I wasn't giving my all in anything this week. Classes, relationships, work, life. I was just on auto-pilot. I kind of feel bad about it -- but don't you just hit a wall sometimes? Everything is coming at you and you're stress-eating and freaking out and suddenly you can chip away some time for yourself, don't you take it? OK, so I did.
My assistant editor said, "You're gonna have that profile in next week, right?" as his subtle reminder that he sees me slacking.
"Of course," I said, trying not to look sheepish.
It's 80 percent done. I just haven't pulled the trigger in three days. Why? I can't really say. Just didn't. Yes, doing other work got in the way, but I could have made time to finish that last bit.
And from my latest epic which I will turn in on Halloween:
I hate him.
Every time I see him, smell him or see his indentation in the furniture, I want to slice his face. I want to rip open his gut and watch his entrails gurgle out of his soft belly.
Every time I see him, smell him or see his indentation in the furniture, I want to slice his face. I want to rip open his gut and watch his entrails gurgle out of his soft belly.
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