A couple calls. In HQ. 4-shot latte. Tired, definitely taking a nap later. Made kids’ lunches last night which I love, took them to school this morning. They were infatuated with the prospect of me making their lunches last night, this morning Emmie telling her teacher while walking into the classroom, “I have a home lunch today!” Jack then telling me how he can’t wait for the little M-shaped sandwiches I made. Quick-paced morning, which I miss. Hearing their voices, watching them eat breakfast. How it should be.
Exhausting my ire…. Not sure if I’m writing ONBLOGG or OFF. Does’t matter. May take a Hal-day today, now that I think about it. What am I doing tomorrow… photography in one of the valleys, maybe Napa again. Lunch at Brasswood, or somewhere. A little tasting. Something for me. Run, a short one, after taking kids to their mother’s.
Getting bored with my story this morning. Do something… what. Let me think. Pound the rest of the latte…. New stories, new EVERYTHING. This new prospective house… making an offer Monday but I already know what the result’s going to be. We’re misplaying these listings and eventual offers. Don’t throw money at it…. Okay, then only seek houses at lower budget, I’m thinking.
But they’re all shit.
Thinking a condo is the way to go… why the fuck do I need a house?
So? That’s what it’s there for. Sorry, I’m beyond frustrated. So change the subject. And honestly, it’s completely out of my hands. COMPLETELY.
In a mood. An absolute virulent and toxic, venomous mood. What can I do about it, but write. But vent. Which does nothing. Seriously thinking about taking off the rest of the day. You know what, why don’t I.
9:58. Get the fuck out of this office. One more call, to IT buddy Trent. No answer, left quick message. Now I’m leaving.
I have to laugh at some people, their ways and language, attempts to communicate. That’s material, that’s a set of pages and book, easily.