Twenty

Today a client sent an email to a senior coworker complaining that the profile I'd written them was "very weak". First time for everything. But then, I'm not surprised given how I'd been really sloppy with these guys. And I can't bring myself to care. The first sign of disaster. I've also been letting other deadlines and tasks slide; not a smart move if I don't want to ruin the trust and reputation I've made for myself, but I seriously, seriously can't bring myself to care. There's no panic, no anxiety, no gut-wrenching urge to "fix it" and control the damage. What does that mean?

I need a vacation. A long, preferably permanent, paid vacation. So sick and tired of working.

The only highlight is that the flat mate is still with me because she's too fugly and psychotic to be loved by anyone else. As my 5-year-old niece put it the other day: "She's a nice cat, but she's like a killer or something." I think she was just minding my feelings with the "nice" bit.