I didn’t get home til after 2am yesterday.
I was tired and worked a 16hr day.
I was nervous and scared, being in the house by myself. My brain goes to bad places when I’m alone at night.
The time I planned to have today was evaporated by outside issues.
My treadmill time this morning was more important.
Preparing for having people over this evening was more important.
Finding cigars for possible play tonight was more important.
Grocery shopping was more important.
Cooking lunches for the week, talking to the roommates, and Kinky Trivial Pursuit was more important.
I’m drunk right now and probably shouldn’t being writing anything. And yet I’m posting this.
I’m also quite horny and find it difficult to concentrate on anything longer than a few sentences. Hence the nature of this blog.
Since I am drunk, I am acting like a pouty child because I didn’t get what I wanted. I don’t like me like this. In fact, I hate me like this. I do not want to write when I am in this mood; I suspect I will both love and hate anything I create while in this frame of mind. But I’m at a computer typing away.
This post doesn’t count.
Categorised as: Rant
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