Instead I'm sitting in an office dimensioning things. Whee...
Every so often I get this itch to quit my job, say the hell with the bills and the land and the new house and do art all day. As it is, I think I'm trying to do too much. I'm not really sure what's going to give. Mom said to me a day or so ago that I try to live as if every week were my last, and while that's not a bad thing, I'm going to burn out if I'm not a little more careful. She thinks that my accident has given me an over-appreciation for the fragility of life, and I act on that by cramming as much, emotionally, physically, mentally and socially into every day.
It's probably why I'm occasionally a basket case, too. Yeah, go ahead, laugh at the 'occasionally.'
It would be much easier to be irresponsible.
That's it for now. There's a lot more going on, but this is a public journal, which still gives me some willies, so deal.