I could make the same amount doing one real job, and then I would possibly have a day off once in a while. At least more than one day per month, which is what I seem to have now. Pardon me while I heave a dramatic sigh.

Oh, perhaps I should type up a little disclaimer. I am hardcore hormonal right now. I have a huge appetite, I am breaking out (which rarely happens), I am needy and whiny, and I'm having mood swings like you would not believe. And let's not forget the paranoia! It's like being on pot, without the pot. And without all the mad giggling.

Bike riding helps (they really aren't lying) except that my time is so limited these days. I did get a chance to go on Saturday, and it was a gorgeous day. I biked over to the spot where the bodies washed ashore, and there was a pile of flowers, teddy bears, candles, and notes-- many of them written by kids. This terrible sadness hit me and I stood there looking out at the water, paying my respects, thinking how could anyone be so heartless?

Then I had the creepy thought that there were still body parts out there, which could wash ashore at any moment. Such as: a head. Freaked me out so much I had to leave.

I have been doing this crazy anaerobic thing on my bike rides, as the Mr. Ointy readers might be aware. It's this exercise thing that is supposed to help my stamina, and I've only been doing it a little while. But I went a-tutoring today and had to climb a hugely steep flight of stairs to get to someone's front door, and I wasn't out of breath at the top of the stairs at all! Very cool. I have been going on shorter rides, but they have been quality ventures.

Saturday after my ride was actually quite funny. I had the afternoon off, and I hadn't made any plans (not realizing that I would actually have a block of time free) and I seriously did not know what to do with myself. I was deeply bored, and wandered around picking things up and putting them down, sorting laundry, taking a long shower. Eventually I did some proofreading. When in doubt, work!

After the fact, I always think of a thousand things I should have/could have done. My biggest regret is that I didn't pick up the phone and call Tim; I seriously haven't talked to him in forever.

I should have done some writing, too. I need to schedule some writing time. But I don't like going out writing on Saturday nights (too many people everywhere) and I can't concentrate at home. Too many distractions. (Such as all my hair products-- according to Jen Wade, I have an unreasonable amount of them. She clearly hasn't heard about the concept of Hair Zones, nor does she have to deal with an evil mushroom sprouting from her head.)

Speaking of writing, I had two poems accepted by a magazine called Terminus. The editors sent a very complimentary acceptance note and I felt all warm and fuzzy and loved. It was my second try sending stuff to them; I am surprised how many of my manuscripts seem to have been successful on the second try. Anyway, it's encouraging. They're printing two of my favorite poems from Curves, one very old and one very new one.

Yesterday I did have to work in the morning, but then I took the rest of the day off to go to Sacramento for Beth's EasterCon, which was really Boozecon, only with more religious debate. (Spy Tuesday: does it exist, or has Susan merely had too much sangria?) There were also 400% more puppy dogs than at any previous Boozecon. And the most decadent chocolate-dipped strawberries I have ever had in my life. Points or no points, I regret not stealing the box on the way out the door.