four five six
April 05, 2006, 4:56 P.M.
I've come to the conclusion that I'm sick to death of nearly every single aspect of my life. House, Spouse, job, geographical location, car, body, mind, friends, families, hobbies, pastimes, chores, obligations, expectations (of me and by me), politics, principles--about the only thing that doesn't make me want to hurl these days is my dog.
And I don't have clue one what to do about any of it.
Reading: "Grave Mistake" by Ngaio Marsh.
Listening: XM, "Fred". The Clash, Billy Idol.
Beading: Attempting the Quadruple Helix stitch Nothing wants to go right lately.
One Year Ago, I was (ahem.)pontificating.
At Random: click here
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