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Sunday, March 3, 2002

I didn't even have the energy to reorganize my CD collection today. That's my usual non-eating cure for the depths of depression (as I like to call it). I have some ideas for re- and de-categorizing, genre identification modifications and just general mayhem, but I couldn't even get started. I did find the Ben Harper CD I've been looking for, though.

So mostly I just did something I rarely do since TiVo. I sat around flipping through the channels. That wasn't very satisfying, and I didn't stay anywhere very long. The only programs other than live sports events that I ever watch as they're being broadcast are news specials and Survivor. And even when I'm watching Survivor I'll sometimes hit the rewind button, so that I'm not watching it in real time with the rest of the west coast (i.e., three hours later than— oh, never mind.)

When I tried to watch anything for more time than it took to change the channel, I fell asleep. When I tried to read, I fell asleep. I guess I need sleep.

Even food wasn't comforting today. I don't think I could choke down a cookie right now if my entire fame and fortune depended on it. Even a donut isn't appealing, although it's a moot point since there isn't one close enough to test myself on. Ice cream, now that might be another matter.

Part of the problem is this allergy thing that I thought I'd conquered. This is three days in a row that I've had trouble swallowing, breathing, and keeping my eyes open. Rain is due in a few days, which might help temporarily (although it'll also make the grasses grow faster). What I really need is for the wind to die down.

Maybe it's just the Sunday blues. That would be a more valid assessment if it weren't for the fact that I've worked all weekend. I didn't have to put in much time today, but the Boss faxed me something to type every couple of hours. So I had to work up the energy to sit at the keyboard long enough to decipher his scribbling and correct his spelling and grammar. That was about all I could handle before crawling back to the couch.

I'd say I need another three-day weekend, but that doesn't really solve the problem as much as it extends it. It's not a three-day weekend I need as much as I need a three-day week. Or four-day, that would be okay, too. Five days is just too long a time to have to deal with everything, and now that it seems to be going on seven days a week, I'm ready to run screaming through the plate glass. If I had the energy, of course.

February sunset

This helps a little.

So what I'm doing is, I'm posting this lame-ass excuse for an entry instead of actually trying to write something that makes sense. And I'm going to take something powerful enough to knock me out for about twelve hours. And I'm going to try to pretend tomorrow's not Monday.

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Recent recommendations can always be found on the links page.

One year ago: Please Pull the Trigger
"Yeah, that's what I need. Then my life would be perfect."

Two years ago: Sonoma Avenue
"I sometimes wonder if we don't lose more than we gain by instilling this fear."

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