The Bloody Doors Off

Yesterday’s post did a number on me.

I’m really feeling this one.

My chest is tight. I chewed baby aspirin just in case. I’m fine.

No really.

“What is Athens?”

Jeopardy is on in the background.

And I was wow, really off-base.

The answer was, (because I know you’re dying to know), “What is Istanbul?”

I find I’m wrong about a lot of things.

But then, aren’t we all?

I don’t know where I’m going with this.

Can I claim PTSD?

Am I going to have to continue collecting CRB?

I got an interesting email two weeks ago. It portended a very. Good. Thing.

Something wonderful.

But I haven’t heard the follow-up. And no, I was not contacted by a Nigerian Prince looking to wire transfer me thirty million dollars.

I dunno, maybe it’s the bi-polar (2) in me. I can’t be happy with intangibles.

Hell, I’m still hung up on waiting for a client to send in edits they spoke to me about a week ago. I know the job will come in, but when? I’m not busy now, it’s the perfect opportunity. But nope, it’ll show when I’m neck deep in another project with a tight deadline, and I’ll have to burn the late night oil and drink coffee to keep my eyes from unfocussing.

Now I want coffee.

This post is pretty pointless.

But I’ll take the alliteration.