Monday morning...

...and more of that morning-after feeling.

No, I didn't drink last night, or the night before; this is the usual result of the usual round of dream-filled fitful sleep and too much time spent wide awake, staring into the darkness. Dreams are treacherous things; the "better" they are, the worse the hours afterward.

Early this morning, I organized the week ahead. The resulting list contains only ten items, but four will require most of my attention and time. Of course the continuing unreliability of my computer will affect several items, but I have someone coming to look at that tomorrow. I hope the fix is simple.

But I have to say the list is depressing in a way. Nothing on it will change my mood, or affect my situation in the ways it needs to be affected. Accomplishing everything I've identified as necessary will only keep the wolf away from the door, not make life behind the door any nicer.

There was no point in putting the most important needs on the list. I can tell myself to do x and y, but without someone else doing z, that's an exercise in self-delusion.

In fact, one of the jobs I've set for myself for the week (but didn't write down on the schedule) is to ignore reality as much as I can. Otherwise, I won't get a damn thing accomplished.

That's a tall order.