Floored

For the moment, anyway. Parts of it are sticky, because the dogs tag teamed my drink last night sending Gin Fairy everywhere, which nicely complements the various beer spills we only halfheartedly swipe at. These floors, like the rest of this old house, manufacture their own dirt. I'm still sitting here, though, mostly because I can't get the motivation to get on the treadmill even though I really want to.

What the fuck is going on these past few days? I can't figure it out. I've said it before, nobody likes a jerk. Regardless, I persist and lately I've been called out on it. I suppose I should appreciate it, but I can't shake the words echoing in my brain and they've cast a nasty filter on everything in view. It's quite unfortunate that when things go wrong (like they have been recently), everything starts to snowball, gaining speed and accumulating more awful along the way. I'm in a serious funk and the solution escapes me. Maybe I need some coffee.

Today I found out that Leah is leaving for the Peace Corps next spring. I won't see her for two years.

+++ Phoenix/United