Wednesday

Let's just not speak about Wednesday, at least the one that directly preceded today. The "done" list is, erm, really stretching it in its desperation. Gold stars for just showing up is all it could muster.

Woke up

Washed dishes

Gussied self up ("To gussy" is a reflexive verb. Isn't that nice.)

Left house.

.

.

.

Really can't come up with much more than that.

Tuesday

Right now I am attempting to increase my productivity so that

a) I feel like an awesome human

b) I don't feel like a guilty human

c) Society doesn't eat me first when the revolution comes (I can knit! and make soap! and cook as long as your idea of a meal involves a random vegetarian stew!).

To that end, I'm switching from the ever-woeful and infinite "To Do" list to the Pollyanna-ish "Done!" list. While sometimes in the past this has felt rather regressive and a bit like I'm trying to give myself gold stars for effort, recent research (1) has said that it's really a great idea and I should do it.

Tuesday:

made plans to restart blogging

restarted blogging

shipped orders

prepped more orders

provided oncall tech support services to mother (yes, it was the power cord, but not the usual one)

two loads of laundry

made dinner (stew! vegetarian! rice and beans and frozen veggies!)

(1) http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/12/091215131328.htm

Where I left off...

When we last spoke with our protagonist (as she chiseled angsty thoughts into tablets of Livejournal), she was posting with less and less frequency, eyes sparkling at the notion that this human interaction thing, with honesty, might be able to replace muttering to herself in text online!

Not so. Interpersonal relationships being what they are, even the keenest friend suffers fatigue at hearing about certain things for the umpteenth time, whether those be family drama (whiiiine), etymology (squeee!), or the flashes of genius that come after reading summaries of studies while tipsy and caffeinated (ZOMG!). Dear internet, you can handle all of this, though. You are the vast bowl of water into which I dip my fingers and cross myself, mix my metaphors and gaze lovingly into my navel.