frustration

From an email I sent to Val today:

I’m really struggling with the weightlifting, and something just doesn’t seem right. I’ve had to lay off lifting a bit this month because of Atlanta trips, but I’m getting exhausted during weightlifting sessions and it’s not the kind that I get a second wind and bounce back from. Something’s not right, and I don’t know what.

There was more said than that, but it’s unimportant. Val’s response was unequivocal:

“oh my Lord
why’s it taking you so long
to give me grace
and the dignity to right these wrongs”

Attempt number one involved scooping Edmund up and trying to pop a pill in his mouth. Attempt number one ended with Jeff bleeding from two long, ugly scratches on his forearm and Edmund sulking in another room.

Call the vet. Lovely, practical, unruffled vet. “We have a problem.”

“He’s stressed, so don’t try to bring them in today. Tomorrow morning, crush the remaining pill and give it to them with a treat or some food, and maybe that will work.”

“All right.”

Attempt number two began with a trip to Target and the purchase of a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. No, we can’t explain it either; we suspect that Sir Boyardee’s company is secretly lacing its tomato sauce with catnip. Nothing else explains our felines’ determination to get their dainty little paws on the tomato sauce.

Geof reminded me today:

Oh, dammit to hell.

I am so close. I wanted to finish up the skin code for the site tonight and to call it a weekend and walk away. But, instead, I’m stuck with half-working code (the half that works is courtesy of Gareth) and a sick spouse who will probably beg out of our movie plans tomorrow.Lesson: what I attempt to do in thirty lines of code, Gareth can do in twelve or so. Ouch. Guess I got a bit of a reminder of why he’s a coder and I do graphics stuff.

Stare at the clock in the left hand corner of my screen. 3:25.
Stare at Photoshop. Try to coax out ideas that won’t come.
Stare at clock in left-hand corner of screen. 3:50.
Continue staring. 3:51.

Open Illustrator. Actually listen to lyrics coming through headphones. Wonder how Paula Cole got so damn weird. Realize that you’re opening a program but don’t know what good you can do with it when it opens.

3:52.This is what it feels like to be totally overwhelmed. This is what it’s like after you’ve been here for seven hours, having only stopped for five minutes to eat a burger. This is what it’s like to have come in, worked all day, and done nothing but fall further behind than where you were at the end of the day before.

Thus, the journal entry. It would be delusional of me to think that the next ten minutes I give up to organize my thoughts would have any chance of me getting caught up on this day.