This is problematic.

I'm not really in a good place. I'm not very interested in looking forward, and I don't want anything that seems to be coming. I'm having a hard time deciding whether I'm afraid

or just walking in a very wrong direction.

I'm spending a whole lot of time wistfully looking back, and a whole lot of time wishing I were someplace else.

In brief (ish)

I often think of things I'd like to write here and then don't do it, perhaps because I feel that doing so would take too much time or because the thoughts are too long to type on my phone keyboard. This, however, is a brief thought, and definitely not too long.

I've known for a while that I am somewhat lactose intolerant, but in general I eat what I want anyway aside from limiting my cheese intake and eating cereal with almond milk.

Yesterday I put real milk in my cereal (oh, the horror) and today I woke up wishing I were dead. That isn't a metaphor--I actually lay there and wished I could simply wink out of existence.

Obviously there are other factors at play here, and I am certain that my fatigue and my uncertainty regarding how to proceed or whether I am in the right place in life and making the right decisions contributed to the moment. Still, I don't usually get that far. So that's something to keep an eye on.

Spring?

The treeflowers are blooming. And it's beautiful. But it's March. I find this a little bit worrisome.


I don't have anything deep on introspective coming to mind to write, but here's what I'm up to:

Tutoring, as usual. I may be dropping (/being dropped by) one client at the end of the month, though. I guess the chemistry just isn't there, and the expectations are not clear. Or, possibly, she just expects her son to suddenly be an excellent writer and speller, despite the fact that he's ten (eleven?), has ADD, only works with me two hours a week, and doesn't spend even all of those two hours focused on writing. I can work with him on homework, or I can work with him on writing. It's difficult to effectively do both. Anyway, I hope he gets or has gotten something out of it.

I'm pet sitting for my aunt--taking care of her big, demanding, energetic dog. He's sweet, but he's definitely a handful.

This morning I went to work for Rick and learned to use a pressure washer. I always claim to have "learned" to do things that require absolutely no skill whatsoever. ("I learned to use a chainsaw, guys! You have to hold down the trigger and then put the spinning blade of death against some wood. Highly technical stuff.") I moved a whole bunch of plywood and pallets and lawn care equipment and several cabinets and such away from the basement walls, then we hooked up one end of the hose to the utility sink and another to the pressure washer, and plugged it in, and went. We massacred a lot of spiders and cave crickets today. I felt sort of bad for them. While I was moving everything away from the walls, it occurred to me to ask Rick whether he had any plans for covering the electrical outlets and, you know, fuse boxes, while we sprayed the walls. No, this had not come up during the planning. I asked whether we could duct tape some plastic around this stuff, but there was neither duct tape nor plastic on hand. So we held a small plastic tub over whatever outlet was nearest to the spray at any given time, and I, at least, kept my fingers crossed. We did have one outlet that needed to be reset, but there were no casualties. Thank God.

And now, dog walking time. I can tell because he just barked for ten minutes without stopping. (Don't judge me. He was outside all morning until 1:30.)

And now, a few messages from Buttercup Festival.

Poor little vacuum! They didn't mean you!