I have found that the single most effective solution for every problem is cake. When that fails, I unplug. I made cake yesterday, the interlopers ate it all, and now I must go.
Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you, Internets. I’m just busy. My projects/ideas/OMFG it’s an epiphany! moments come in waves rather than a stream, and if I ever want to actually use that energy I have to let go of everything else for a while.
One thing that falls off of my peripheral duties list is the laundry, which I am currently doing just one day late; Laundry Day is Saturday for me, so I don’t have to do laundry every single night while I’m working my 2nd and 3rd and 8th jobs. I did an extra good job last weekend so today has not been the nightmare I usually envision. We all lived, anyway.
Another thing is the Internet, which I have been avoiding lately and have been rewarded handsomely for. My sacrifice yielded many thousands of usable words in very nice patterns, and for that I am thankful. Sometimes usable words fall into bad patterns, or bad words fall into really bad patterns, or most of the time, because we’re being honest, those words get wasted on twitter and Facebook and never turn into anything at all. And then I get very abrupt emails from very nice editors asking for their stuff, to which I reply, “Yes! Right away! I suck at life and you can fire me and I totally understand and please don’t fire me because I really need to feel like my life has some sort of purpose and I kind of need the money even though it isn’t really about the money because I have a regular job that I sort of hate but I’m working on it and I have your stuff attached have a nice weekend!” I usually get no reply,but they keep inviting me back so I assume they took my pleas to heart.
Also, I usually stop concerning myself with actual food, which I would probably be out of if a Certain Friend A hadn’t coerced me into getting a plot at the community garden. However, for my family’s sake, I’ve been trying to keep up with this one. I was doubly rewarded yesterday with a giant pot of ratatouille, which I finished off (gleefully, mind you) at lunch today. Every time I eat something I grew, I feel like a Sim, and that, my friends, is an item I can officially check off the bucket list. I don’t have a bucket list yet, but when I get all existential and weird, and/or gravely ill, please remind me to add–then check off–”feel like a Sim.” Which, really, is something we should all feel like all the time, since the Sims are people doing regular people things, but nothing makes it feel more real than eating food from the garden, which was my point.
You may have noticed that I’m a bit rambly. That’s because the very first thing that disappears when I get all excited is my ability to sleep. I’m tired-hyper, if you know what I mean, and this post makes little to no sense. Which means it’s like most of the others. Oh! Also, check out the post on Mo’s first day of school, and the current issue of RRF, and also remember to follow this chick on twitter, and pay attention to the links to your right because I change them way more often than I post.
And that is all.
Have a nice week, y’all.
