And Tomorrow It All Starts Over

Steve's almost done with the fucking event, which is good, though it'll inevitably lead to him being unemployed again, which is bad. But last week's complete lack of forward movement on A Book of Tongues is depressing in the extreme to me, I'm exhausted (being on the second day of my period certainly isn't helping), and Cal managed to wrench my glasses in such a way that one of the pins holding the frame together dropped out, thus making my lens drop out several times in quick succession (I tried to get it fixed today, only to find out the Bay's apparently decided that keeping its Optical Clinic open on Sundays is a waste of time/money). Plus, Cal was insane for much of today, and tomorrow is yet another marathon: JK, followed by Rod, followed by a social skills course at the Geneva Centre. Grindy grindy grind.

OTOH, I clocked about 750 words on "Signal to Noise" over the weekend. But I also wasn't able to go hang out with Michael McMaster, for various reasons, and wasn't able to work out as much as I usually do, for various other/similar reasons. It's shit-cold in Toronto. My back hurts, I'm stiff all over, I've got gas, no one ever calls, e-mails or tries to get in touch with me. Etc.

In summation: Why is everything so hard? I'm really ready for that to stop, sometime soon. (Though not in a "because you're dead" sort of way.)