At least I hope so. We've been working on getting organized. Trying to get shit done. Some days it seems completely hopeless. Especially when the puppies are full of piss and vinegar. But sometimes I actually feel like I'm making progress. I'm behind on writing checks, but I have 1099s done. I'm behind on writing but caught up on editing for a few days. I have a daily folder that I check now, instead of a calendar that gets buried under all of my shit.
Oh, I still have the calendars. I love them.
I need to start getting the health shit in order, too. My sugars are off the charts. Blah
Tonight was Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz while working on filing and shit. I love those guys, I really do.
A got her chef stuff. Her chef jacket and hat and apron, her knives and her roll up. It made me think of D, and how I never got pictures and how I miss that kid and wonder how she is.
I was thinking a lot about my past lives yesterday, in fact. About my mom and how she'd love the puppies, and about how Matt was a good guy who got a raw deal and about Scott and the box of wine he used to bring to dinner parties. I don't regret any of what I've done in the last few years; I have family and friends, new and old, that help me through the day, and I'm happy as I've ever been. Sometimes, though, it's good to look back fondly on the people who shaped my life five, ten, even more years ago and wish them well, even if they aren't with me anymore.