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Feb. 9th, 2007 10:18 pmI'm home! I've even bought groceries and eaten. I fixed myself tortellini in alfredo sauce with garlic bread -- the Ragu pre-made alfredo sauce is surprisingly tasty. And I had just enough left over for dinner tomorrow at work.
I'm behind on email, on making contact with people I need to touch base with, and on fanfic. I should have posted a photo post and an LC chapter today, but my shift was long and my energy quite low. Perhaps tomorrow, when I have the morning off. Abjectest apologies, my friends.
I often feel that you lot -- some of you in particular, but all of you in some degree -- must feel horribly neglected and unloved by me. It's not a sensation I like, because you all are one of my greatest pleasures. My life seems fairly fulfilling right now, with a job and decent coworkers and life in the big city, but depression alas does not care how full my social calendar is. And my method of coping is to go silent. So I have been. I sit and read, I sleep, I do sudoku puzzles on the El; I save my energy for work, when I have to be cheerful and tactful.
On the brighter side, coworker S and I had a writing contest today based around an encounter she had on the El. We took the same two lines of dialogue and each wrote a sketch about it (she moonlights at Second City, a sketch-comedy club). The decision as to who won the contest had to be delayed, however, due to the fact that she got chili sauce in her eye -- long story -- and had to remove her contact, rendering her mainly blind.
It's all very Studio Sixty, if Matt Albie were a depressive playwright and Studio Sixty was a box office.
I'm behind on email, on making contact with people I need to touch base with, and on fanfic. I should have posted a photo post and an LC chapter today, but my shift was long and my energy quite low. Perhaps tomorrow, when I have the morning off. Abjectest apologies, my friends.
I often feel that you lot -- some of you in particular, but all of you in some degree -- must feel horribly neglected and unloved by me. It's not a sensation I like, because you all are one of my greatest pleasures. My life seems fairly fulfilling right now, with a job and decent coworkers and life in the big city, but depression alas does not care how full my social calendar is. And my method of coping is to go silent. So I have been. I sit and read, I sleep, I do sudoku puzzles on the El; I save my energy for work, when I have to be cheerful and tactful.
On the brighter side, coworker S and I had a writing contest today based around an encounter she had on the El. We took the same two lines of dialogue and each wrote a sketch about it (she moonlights at Second City, a sketch-comedy club). The decision as to who won the contest had to be delayed, however, due to the fact that she got chili sauce in her eye -- long story -- and had to remove her contact, rendering her mainly blind.
It's all very Studio Sixty, if Matt Albie were a depressive playwright and Studio Sixty was a box office.
