I had a fun and easy-going day today with my mom and son. So why do I feel even more stressed out than I did before?
To answer my own question, it's because I let work pile up slowly for a long while as I tried to write better and more complete content for the blog, rather than product descriptions and things like that. I don't know which is more helpful to the business, but I sure know which one I'd prefer to spend my time on and be paid for.
Also, my boss gave me an old laptop pc he had laying around and I could't get it to work beyond booting up, signing in and staring for several minutes at a blank black screen with just a white mouse arrow floating in the empty space taunting me. After trying several key strokes with no effect, I unplugged it and it shut off. I know I mentioned this once before but it bears repeating: I radiate slay machine.
Had a mini meltdown over it and come on here to vent only to be constantly interrupted by concerned husband and child and a phone that only gets important business type calls very early in the morning or upsettingly late at night.
I have a book review (or 3 and counting...) to write up, a movie review from what I saw today, the write-up of APE SF from this past weekend should take two pages, the last two parts in what's become a massive series on my good will towards Con-Volution the weekend before, another movie to see and review, plus I need to edit at least the first issue of the comic and the most recently written chapter of the novel (10, of a proposed 23) while its still fresh in my mind. I've made appointments to talk to two artists in person about the comic, and both are female with styles I really enjoy.
Progress is hard.
Dishes, laundry, calling and following up on preschools for my kid, paying bills, grocery shopping... The never-ending story of being a grown up is exhausting and infuriating and so totally worth it, but I don't know for how long without stopping, without a real break, without hearing from my boss or knowing how much I'm to be paid UP FRONT I can do. This has turned into quite the little diatribe. Sorry, not sorry.
It's not like anyone reads this bullshit anyway.