Busy. Stupidly busy. Crazy-busy. Crazy-busy at work and at home and with the family and in every other damn way I care to look at it. Earlier this year I got a couple of big projects out of the way and thought I was home and hosed, time to catch my breath, my evenings belonged to me again.
Nahh.
Somehow I've got myself in deeper than ever. Nothing I didn't bring on myself, you understand, nothing I'm not still glad I'm doing, even, if I stand back and make myself think honestly about it. But my default state of mind has even gone past "run about and yap like a chihuahua" level and reached the "sit and stare dully at monstrous to-do list" level.
Well, screw it. At least tonight I'm managing to hold onto my good mood, through a combination of a shot of good Scotch, some quality time marvelling at Charm's amazing set and a cool, funny writers' group meeting tonight where I chatted with a woman who'd once smooched Isaac Asimov.
500 more words to type, then bed.
Take it easy, everybody.
Nahh.
Somehow I've got myself in deeper than ever. Nothing I didn't bring on myself, you understand, nothing I'm not still glad I'm doing, even, if I stand back and make myself think honestly about it. But my default state of mind has even gone past "run about and yap like a chihuahua" level and reached the "sit and stare dully at monstrous to-do list" level.
Well, screw it. At least tonight I'm managing to hold onto my good mood, through a combination of a shot of good Scotch, some quality time marvelling at Charm's amazing set and a cool, funny writers' group meeting tonight where I chatted with a woman who'd once smooched Isaac Asimov.
500 more words to type, then bed.
Take it easy, everybody.
the F stands for Forecast