Thursday PM: Got back from New York this evening. It was a good trip. Had fun with friends and relatives–well, some of them. Saw a Broadway play. Met In Real Life two editors I’ve only known via the Internet. Hatched a plan to start a new blog. Bought the domain name. Made notes about new blog. Got really excited about getting started on it.
Friday: Still on NY time, got up really early. Went into office and got lots of office-type work done. Made first forays into setting up new blog. Steam-cleaned kitchen floor. Dusted living room. Did laundry. Went to bed feeling satisfied with self.
Saturday: Got up kinda early. Went into office. Shuffled some papers. Hit a road block in setting up blog but persevered. Made dinner. Went to bed feeling less than satisfied, but sure I’ll do better tomorrow.
Sunday: Got up really late. Slouched into office. Shuffled some more papers but not the ones that really need shuffling. Sorted out some more roadblocks with the new site. Felt good. Hit another roadblock. Felt bad. Make dinner. Ate a quarter bag of pretzels and handful of chocolate chips. Okay, several handfuls. Go to bed feeling that I’m going off-track; vow to do better on Monday.
Monday: With effort, got up at decent hour, neither early nor late. Go into office. More roadblocks with getting new site online. Try to be patient. Try not to feel stupid. Try not to keep checking to see if FTP is working now. Can’t be bothered to shuffle papers. Can’t be bothered to do anything. Tipping into the abyss of funkdom. Eat four cookies. Finish chocolate chips. Go to bed.
Tuesday: Got up at a reasonable hour. Limp into office. Try the FTP again. Still not working. WTF?!?!? I know if I was Dooce and married to Jon Armstrong, this would not be happening to me. But then if I were Dooce, I would be separated from Jon Armstrong and crappy FTP BS would still be happening, except I’d be all alone with it. Oh, yeah, I am all alone with it. Waaaaaaahhh!
Decide to pull up my big girl panties and Sort This Shit Out.
Shit now sorted, but I’m exhausted. Does this sound at all familiar to anyone?????
Jane Gassner
