Of course, that's not too hard. That was a bad day.
Things look better today, despite an incredibly slow (and demoralizing) pace at work. I find that the more committed I become to the idea of really, honestly being out of this business after this trip the easier my day- to- day here is to manage. Not that it's easy- but easier, certainly. My "why do I give a damn" factor is slowly creeping upwards, too, and that's helpful. There's a freedom in knowing that I can get away with… well, almost anything. It's an odd feeling to get around to, and I'm still wary of it, but damn, that's intoxicating stuff.
And even here, in the land of stripped- down living, there are luxuries that get me through. My friends, for example; I could not have made it to the midpoint without the guys on my team, definitely. They keep me straight and talk me down. Music and podcasts help, too; long walks with my iPod hidden under my hair, Ira Glass whispering in my ear like a secret. (Ira is totally the boy I wished I could have dated in high school. I'd knit him argyle sweatervests and steal his glasses.) Books; my Kindle saves my ass regularly. About every bad day ends with me curled in bed reading Marcus Aurelius (for clarity), then Atwood (for wildness and wit), then Vonnegut (for kindness and honesty). And knitting, of course. How many nasty comments or brutal bits of irritation have I buried in stitches?
Getting me through it today:
Gauntlets of my own design in red Bearfoot yarn, soft and shiny and lovely. A note from Teresa, scribbled on a paint chip. (When I got this, the first thing I thought was, "Why is Home Depot sending me junk mail here?" -which made it even better.) Currently reading on the Kindle: Divisadero, by Michael Ondaatje, shockingly gorgeous prose, one of the best recommendations I've ever received.
I really need to update that books list, damnit. Sorry about that.