I’ve been feeling pretty useless, because I haven’t been able to fix to a non-ugly, uniform state the website I’ve been attempting for some friends.

I’d link to the fixed page here, but they haven’t seen it yet. Soon, though, there should be an unveiling.

While I beat myself up about my inability to handle the flash junk correctly, I’ve spent fruitless hours doing nought but pondering. Irritating really. Especially when you add in all the shit that I have to do around the house.

Other than that abcess of low self-esteem, I’ve been feeling bluesy about my lack of work and lack of the boy-o in an, I don’t know, three-mile radius. The work thing is partially related to restlessness from having an unstructured environment. It’s too fucking easy to sit around in comfy clothes, essentially immobile with the day gone in a minute.

But, the other thing about work is the lingering pissed offedness about the whole ball of stupid wax. The angst emanates from the decay surrounding me, which I am trying to stem. I look at all of the shit falling apart in my house, or the broken teeth in my head, and I’m reminded of all of the extra time I spent on other people’s problems, while neglecting my own. I skipped dentist appointments, I fell behind in home maintenance; something had to give in order to work all of those fucking 60+ hour weeks, and I let it be my stuff.

Now, I got NOTHING, in big old capital letters, to show for the extra hours, because in the end, the people for whom I did all the work gave me the gift of a great lesson in priorities. I fucking hope I remember to never, ever work that fucking hard again for zero gain.

As for the distant guy thing, there is a bright side. If you had asked me a few years back whether I would know anyone willing to jump on a plane to hang with me and the family on Christmas, I would have cracked you one for your big, stupid mouth. But, hey, what do you know, the ticket has been bought and M. will be 100 times more likely to experience a white Christmas.