exas

Anxiety is a wonderful, fascinating condition that causes those who cope with it to occasionally go two or more weeks without checking their mail, because there's always a chance that there will be something absolutely horrifying in there.

Yesterday I checked my mail for the first time in two weeks, and I found the following:

• Something about car insurance
• Seattle Public Utilities bill for $7
• Card from my mother extolling me to "stay true to [my] path and day by day, all will be well." Check for student loan payment was enclosed.
• Card from my small, daring friend-for-life Breezy, featuring a kitty in a raincoat, proclaiming that "One day at a time, we will figure this bullshit life out."
• Postcard from K's visit to France, cover art a vintage travel poster, informing me that his trip "didn't change my life, how unfortunate. But I'm about to go have a huge ice cream, so I guess that's still pretty good."

Where I'm going with this is the same place I tend to go with these things, which is that it is rarely as bad as I expect. 

Four hours of web dev today, three of it at the hospital. The more I see of WordPress, the more I appreciate it as a reprieve from actual coding while simultaneously resenting it for encouraging me to build a skill set with zero applications outside of its own twisted little universe. 

I'm rewatching the entire series of Friday Night Lights in the background while I work. Texas is so much more romantic on Netflix than it will ever be in real life. I still want to go to the Texas State Fair, though; preferably with Moon Base so that I can say "one of my exes came with me to Texas."