This week has been a long mental slog. April showers might bring May flowers, but they’re depressing the fuck out of me in the process. I need to see the sun again – preferably when the wind ISN’T blowing 30mph at the same time, so that I could actually enjoy it.

It’s not just the weather. My brain has a basic pattern of fuckery that I’m fairly used to and can track with relative accuracy, but it also likes to keep things interesting by serving me the occasional giant steaming mental shit sandwich on top of that. 


Mmm. Beefy. Also, pro-tip: don’t Google Image Search “shit sandwich”. Like, ever. I did it for you to confirm that it is, in fact, a very bad idea. You’re welcome.

Unfortunately, sending said shit sandwich back to the kitchen isn’t really an option, so I’m left with either ignoring it or trying to work my way through it.

Ignoring it just makes it stink more, trust me. It’s like a cat-box that needs changing. You keep putting it off and eventually your whole house, all your clothes, everything is going to smell like piss and people are going to start to notice. When the smell of piss starts keeping you from doing your job or keeps you away from people you’d like to spend time with, then it’s probably a problem that merits addressing.

Unless you’re an independently wealthy hermit, anyway. In which case, congratulations on living the dream, my friend.


That leaves me with working my way through the shit sandwich instead.

And so, I slog.










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