has been absorbing enormous amounts of time of late. I enjoy the game tremendously. I haven't managed to get far along in the story because I am still learning by making every possible stupid mistake, but that's the fun of it all.
I feel like changing my name to McCauley. I have actually enjoyed the recent spate of days with no one around. I note myself falling back into my old habits for living alone and find it pleasant. I do things so very differently on my own than when there is another person around. It is not better nor any worse, per se, but it is distinctly different. I wonder if everyone has "single" habits and "cohabitation" habits that are so distinctly different?
Home Repair and Refurbishing
seems to be stalled. I worked a bit at picking wallpaper off in the back room, but gave it up as a bad job after taking over 30 minutes to clear about two square feet of paper. There has to be a better way. I may just give up and paint over what remains. I don't think there is much chance it wall be visibly undesirable.
A leak from my bathtub to the garage seems to remain despite a recent patch. I must call the plumber back and get it looked at again. Remembering to do so has been quite difficult.
languishes still. I haven't been able to write anything longer than a page for nearly a year. I have maintained my "poem a day" for all that time, but none of it is worthy of preservation or publication. I haven't been inspired at all to write. I don't feel "blocked" although I have never really understood what people meant by "writer's block".
has been black of late despite having a good bit of fun with computer games. I wish I could describe having a good time while being in a bad mood and depressed. Is this what they mean by "accommodating your illness"? I think my lack of sleep is the culprit. I missed an appointment with H&R Block this morning because I was non-functional from lack of sleep. My erratic slumbers don't usually keep me from doing the needful tasks of my day. Last night was an exception. The ghosts were walking all night. The big one was watching me sleep, and seemed quite benign, but the little one was roaming the house in what seemed an agitated manner. Of course, how can one really tell about such things?
Online, a friend asked me (responding to my comments about my mood) if I still had suicidal thoughts from time to time. I replied that I truly love the world but that the prospect of the custody battle is too much for me. This engendered an accusation that I was "once more" taking refuge in obscurity. I protest! As any of you that read this journal regularly, or any who share with me anything beyond casual acquaintance almost certainly know, I am no stranger to obscurity. I have never found it to be a refuge.