I’m sick of politics and politicians, I’m sick of women being treated like chattel, I’m sick of feeling like no matter how I spend my time or my day or my life or my money I could have/should have spent it better.
I peruse headlines for something to write about and I just sigh in a combination of resignation and despair.
I’m going to take the dog for a walk, and then we’re going to have tuna steaks and salad for dinner, with an amusing white wine. Then I’m going to write a list of things my son should do between now and when he graduates from college and moves to Madison, Wisconsin to start his FIRST REAL JOB (yarly! yeah! go First Son!) (get a credit card, buy clothes for work, figure out what furniture/dishes/potsandpans he needs and how many of those things he can get from our basement on his way from Cleveland to Madison, research cars and think about what kind of a car he wants/needs/can afford, etc. etc.) and then I’m going to read my book or knit.
I’m also going to ponder, as I have been for the past two weeks, two really important questions:
Should I quit at least one of my jobs?
Can I afford/justify these boots?
These two questions are, in case you didn’t notice, directly related.
And the boots are $515, ifthatmakesanydifference.
I’m thinking no, no matter what the answer to the first question is.
And I can’t wait for my glow-in-the-dark paint to come so I can make these jars: