Guilt; confusion; sensitive co-workers.

I have this reusable Whole Foods bag that a friend bought in Vegas, which somehow made its way home with me and has continued to make its way to and from work, and the grocery store, with me. On the side, it says, "I love my home... planet earth," but the way the words are arranged is artfully uneven, and every time I see it this is what goes through my mind: "I love my home planet... earth." Huh. That's weird because no one has a home planet other than earth. Every. Single. Time. My brain is not capable of remembering what it actually says on this bag, or even that my predictable wrong response is, well, wrong. I kind of want to get rid of the bag just because it's a reminder of how my mind is hard-wired for certain kinds of failure.

I think people know how tired and stressed I am, and everyone at my work is walking on eggshells around me. It's actually kind of nice. This is what I imagine it would be like to be an invalid. I'm like an invalid, but the kind that has a job. And I've actually had a really productive afternoon, having recycled a bunch of tiny notes with tiny reminders written on them after performing the tiny tasks they signified, and also emptying out my outlook inbox. I found a tiny error on the website and instead of notifying the person who should fix it, I just fixed it myself, because my desire to not have to communicate with others overwhelmed by desire to not have to do things myself.

I think I have petered out on Thing-A-Day. I'm sad about that because I love the idea, but when I committed to do it I absolutely did not anticipate that this was going to be one of the busiest and most stressful months of my life. I have been spending a little bit of time almost every day making something, but I haven't summoned the commitment necessary to actually document and post these things, which to me is kind of the point. So. Fail.