Monday, July 14, 2014


I have precisely five minutes to write this, and not a thing in my head. When Katie got home, the weird barometric pressure thing that happens right before a storm made me super-sensitive while she made dinner. I felt like I was doing everything wrong.

A couple of glasses of wine and an episode of True Detective later, and I'm laying in bed, listening to the rain patter on the air-conditioner, watching "Wife Surprised with New Puppy" videos, and knowing I need to get to bed in just a few short minutes, thinking about the difference between keeping my word and making something interesting, and wondering if the effort to accomplish something is enough, even though occasionally the work itself isn't all that great.

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