I wish I blogged more, but…

I chose to finish a project first. It’s a burden. I took it on a year ago, I do it sporadically, with only occasional enthusiasm. I don’t know if the usual excuse “I don’t have time” is valid. And now the client is losing patience.

Quite turmoiling. I would sooo much rather be blogging. Or writing a book. As soon as I finish the project, I’m starting (or continuing) a book.

I miss the calming effect writing has on me. And I miss you.

I started to read posts on the Reader site, and I needed to consciously stop. Sorry to not have read your posts.

Be well! See you soon, I hope.


My child is ill. I hate she has fever. If she had fever enough I’d give her some medicine and we’d get to sleep some.

I hate she’s connected to my boob to chew. I hate I can’t go brush my teeth and hang the laundry. I went to brush my teeth fifteen minutes ago and used the time to pick at my skin. I hate I’ve wasted the time.

I hate I’ll be a zombie tomorrow. I hate working sleepy. I hate I have this much work that I don’t do. I hate I’ll have to choose between work and staying home with her tomorrow. I hate myself for wishing the first option. I’m awful as a mother.

I hate that my children cling to me. Don’t they see I’m no good?

I hate hatred. I’m on the path to the dark side of the Force. No, I’m already there.

And so on.

I’ll go try to brush my teeth and stop complaining. I don’t have a choice of hatred. I only have the right to feel it sometimes. Awful. Still is. And I hate it.

A not-so-extraordinary weekend

After a weekend of two birthday parties, spent with my mother, grandmother, mother- and father-in-law, my father and my husband, a telephone call to my aunt, and the ordinary offspring drama, I was a ruin yesterday evening. This morning wasn’t much better.

After a day’s work and a vent to my coworkers, things look just a bit better today.

I wanted to post this post yesterday as a cry for help but couldn’t find a certain word and gave up.

In short, I’m thankful to be employed and to have coworkers.