duck-shaped pain

I was looking back at some of the earliest entries, trying to think of some sort of pithy comment I could make on the endeavor as a whole. Read the first entry, compared with some of the listless ones I've come up with lately.

You know what? The entries now are not substantially better than the ones I was writing this time last year. Which was the whole point of doing this -- to improve my writing. But now I look back and it seems like I've been stuck in a 12-month rut. It all seems the same and now I just feel frustrated.

I suppose I should do something to celebrate, but now I can't think of anything appropriate. I don't even know if I feel like marking the occasion now.

It was much warmer today than yesterday's confounding freeze-fest. It was up to 60 degrees! Last time this week, it was 100 degrees out, but today, we'll all take what we can get.

This festive mood must have hit some more than others, because I saw not one, but two elderly white men out mowing their lawns today in white tank tops, cut-off jean shorts, black knee socks, and big huge multi-colored cowboy hats decorated with feathers.

Sat in front of the computer today for nine hours, after being out two days due to illness. Had to compile yet another month's worth of boron reports. No one likes this data. Once I get done with putting it together and printing and binding it real pretty, it will go in a folder, where no one will ever read it again. Makes me feel really motivated.

I worked through my feelings (and lack of caffeine -- there was no coffee to be had in the house this morning) by endless play of the two good songs off of Harmacy. [1] Few bands equal as an appropriate soundtrack to sheer pointlessness and frustration.

Then one of my co-workers brought me a minty-fresh espresso con panna as an unexpected treat, [2] and I was irksome no more.

[1] Officially, these are "Ocean" and "Beauty of the Ride."

[2] I don't know how they knew. They just did.

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