Thursday has been bluesy. I got a last minute project this morning that took up a lot of time.
After it was done, I’ve been working on a 2011 budget. Daddy needs a new pair of shoes … and a crapload of new equipment.
It’s depressing to look at my wish list and the reality list. Working with photography and video, there are products that could make my life much easier. But it takes budget.
So after I sat looking at numbers for hours, I got up to refill my water bottle around 3:30. I walked to the fridge all mopey like. I played my little pursed-lip trumpet and then collapsed on the ground in a mound of tears and my own feces.
It was rather ugly.
It makes you wonder if I’m two or 105.
My basketball league resumes tonight. The game is at 9 p.m. Yes, I play basketball. For a league. I used to be pretty good … when I played with a bunch of little Christian kids in Jr. High. Among Chicago street kid giants who went to heathen schools and played on real college teams, I’m a pipsqueak with a 0% chance of making anything other than a freethrow … and that’s when someone gets me the ball and I can draw a foul.
Ninety-nine percent of my readers just shut down completely after I talked about basketball for one whole paragraph. They may have reached for a razor blade even. If that’s the case, you need help. Basketball talk shouldn’t encourage you to think about suicide.
If you didn’t know I played basketball, you probably don’t know that I play on a 9-ball pool league too. See, you’re learning all kinds of great things about me today. Every Wednesday night, I’m usually in some grubby bar with a bunch of grubby people waiting for my turn to play pool.
I hope your Thursday was less than bluesy. If it has been bluesy and if you’re lying on the floor in a pile of your own excrement right now, that’s weird, because where’s your computer that you can do both at the same time? But if you are, get up and take a shower. Put on a clean pair of undies and take a walk. It’ll do you some good.