Saw some butt-ugly apartments today. Which, as friends reminded me, you don’t sign a lease during retrograde. Which, trust me, we are in NO danger of that!

My anxiety is through the roof. Between home and work and mom and the ceasing of a second source of income and oh yeah typing my thoughts on this blog when people who control the clearing of my paychecks read it, I’ve been a little touchy.

I did tone down my last post. Didn’t delete it. Just rethought some word choices. I am an editor, after all. If everyone wants to say the original wording was hyperbole, sure, let’s go with that.

I left work at 4:45 on Friday. Which normal people do. I was so chicken-fried burned-out that I couldn’t function for another second. I met a friend for a drink or three and felt like I was human again.

And now at 7:30 p.m. on Sunday, I have to do the big honkin’ project I couldn’t bear to do Friday. To be published by early tomorrow morning. My anxiety all day has been around “OMG have to do this” — even more so than Everything Else.

I had wanted to get up to Orlando for a couple of conferences this week. At this point I think it would take less than a straw to send this camel into traction. I think a kitty whisker is all it would take.

So I’m sticking close and lying low.

Here’s to hoping everyone LETS me stay in my fragile little corner.

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