Today the difference between what I -was- doing and what I -wanted- to be doing was huge. Probably explains why I spent so much of the evening either sad or angry.
What I wanted to do was come home and lie down with my book. What I ended up doing was socializing with the family, taking Middle back down to campus (he had come up for a brief visit,) doing some laundry and listening to increasingly inebriated and pessimistic family members. Only now at bedtime have I got any peace at all.
Work was no great winner either; I'm back on service so I had a lot of cases and several were quite complicated. Tiring but at least in a meaningful way as opposed to the frustrating tiredness from dealing with business-speak and BS. Still.
The weather is lousy too. Joy.
On the other hand I still have this swell sobriety thing going and that's always cool. Next week is my nine-month soberversary and that's cool too.
Time for sleep though - even though I'm not still going to bed at 8 this cold (which has lingered as hoarseness and a cough) is keeping me awfully tired.