It's been a rough week. It happens. Sleep has become a necessity rather than the occasional afterthought it was a few years ago. Stress has become an obstacle rather than a fuelling factor.
There are higher points too, though. We built our front porch this weekend, with minimal injuries -- just that one time I tried to pry my finger off with the crowbar rather than the old foundation.
I have never had such a beautiful porch, and it's ours. We made it. We started with a pile of wood and by Sunday night we were no longer swinging ourselves from joists into the house but walking along solid cedar planking, bright and perfumed and straight and clean and stunning.
We figured out how to make stairs after staring at the wood and walls long enough, figured out handrails and finishing touches, I learned to drive a nail clean and straight out of necessity and am proudest of that lesson.
We lived off sandwiches and pizza and there was no guilt at not taking the time to cook, there was no question of laziness, we worked hard and long and used our bodies and our brains together.
I excitedly explained to a coworker that it felt as though I'd grown past the corporate hole, that if that big electromagnetic wave came through and killed all the machines, I'd still survive, still have a useful skill other than paper pushing.
I learned a lesson in that conversation, when he told me that I have a massive chip on my shoulder.
He's right.
He also taught me that when I'm tired and running on low energy I should keep my enthusiasm behind closed lips because that's when I forget that not everyone in the multiverse lives to live, but to engage in commercialism.
I'm not disappointed. I'm not scared. I'm not hurt or angry or anything right now. I'm a little tired and a little nervous about my meeting with the CEO tomorrow to discuss "his responsibilities towards security" but not that nervous after all. I know what results I require from that meeting and I have a plan as to how to get there.
It's all good. Kristen's phone call last night was a reminder that people still care, and that some of them even care about me -- enough to break their routine to call. I should do that more often myself. And I will. Slowly.