03.21.2007 - 11:59 a.m.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day. The sun sparkled on the river, the waterbirds were all gathered on the sand spits enjoying it, the breeze was perfect.

Nothing real, nothing beautiful or fulfilling or even relevant to my life is in my job. I don't know why I have it, except that it's part of the process by which I can afford my life. I have to work, or we can't keep the house.

One of these days I'm going to lose it. This morning I caught myself thinking a car accident would be perfect. Because then everyone would forgive me my dropped balls.

I wouldn't really, I don't think. But it usually doesn't even occur to me.

I never got over the stress of the wedding. It just shifted over to projects at work, also overwhelming, also down to the wire, also, possibly, destined to be complete and total failures.

I've been nauseous all week. Constant, low-grade awareness that I am an idiot. Of several kinds.

Nobody can make it better, at this point, so I won't ask. I just wanted to confess it. I tried calling the husband a few minutes ago, but his day is sucking too. He doesn't need any more burden, at least not before we're home tonight.

I keep thinking "I don't want this." I don't know what "this" is. I need to figure it out, pronto.

Until I do, all of life is purgatory. And I like my car too much to wrap it around a tree.

-stonebridge

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