A girl can only feel like hammered poop so many hours a day

So I’m noticing a little bit of a “rage” theme in my past, oh, seven thousand posts. Or however many I’ve published (and not pulled back into draft mode) since 2001.

In any event, I need a clean slate. Like, now.

I made plans Thursday night. Because I will be in civilization again. I have to start somewhere when it comes to putting my life back together.

Maybe I can make plans every Thursday. Shit is POSSIBLE now. More than it used to be, anyway.

I said to mom the other day, isn’t it funny how my two highest-paying jobs were the ones were I was also the freest/happiest? My world wasn’t defined ONLY by pre-market, market, after-market and weekends.

Granted, there were other things wrong with my world. But if I needed to go get my shit together, I could.

And did.

Tonight I didn’t go back to work. I settled in for an evening of “Real Housewives” and “Mistresses.”

I’ll pay for it tomorrow. I always do.

But I don’t feel as wretched as I did when I last posted three and a half hours ago. That’s as close to feeling good as I have in a long while.

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