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Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!


That was close!

I almost took myself seriously tonight. Like major seriously. Like disappointment seriously.

And that would have sucked.

Monday morning, blah blah blah, up, do work for an hour, take a shower, start packing up everything, Kris rolls out of bed, starts his oatmeal, plops his butt down on the couch with ESPN playing on the television.

I'm gathering all my stuff to head to the office, when Kris comments, "Wait. You're going to work."

"Uh, yeah, I am."

"No, no, no. You're going to work."


"You haven't done that in like, years. I mean, sure you'd work at Greg's, or head over to Mike's to work at his place, or maybe head into Krush. But you're usually at the dining room table right there.

But you're heading into work.

Into. Work."

I burst into tears.

Later, three people, two nominally independent of each other, called me a Flock groupie. Now, if I didn't enjoy hanging out with the Flock people a lot, I think I'd be upset at the potential derogatory implications of the term "groupie." But I was too distracted by Mike's comment, "What? Are you trying for a second childhood?"

Follow that with an afternoon of there's-no-way I-can-get-all of-this-work-done in-this-lifetime amounts of work, and the end of the day could not come soon enough.

Considering last night was a wonderfully productive slice of time working at Flock, being overwhelmed today was a serious downer.

But then I realized that, eh, nah.

No need to take myself so seriously. No need for the drop into a molasses world. No need to lose sight of the fact that there's a lot of fun happening, and being blue only distracts my view of it.

So raspberries to Mike for the groupie/second childhood comment. And "pbth!" to the huge work load (it'll still get done, just not Right. Now).

I'm off to throw the disc, run with the dogs, and eat a piece of chocolate cake.

Oh, and watch tonight's episode of Ultimate Fighter 2, the revenge of the wimps.