Let me preface this by saying that I know it's a bad idea to cook while naked, and that I'm not stupid enough to ever do that.
I was not cooking; I was only moving the freshly-cooked Spanish rice from the pan to a storage container. And I was wearing a towel.
I don't have to justify myself. (I will, but I don't have to.) I'm still unraveling the art of making Spanish rice and while I am certainly improving, I cannot yet say that I'm an expert. Probably because I look up the recipe and then think "oh yeah this isn't so hard" and then don't look at it again.
Life is just more exciting this way.
But now I have pretty dang good rice for tomorrow, and probably another scar. It's no big deal. I've got so many scars, and they all tell a story. Usually that story is "I was hungry and didn't wait for it to cool down."
I didn't say they were good stories.
What day is it today...Monday! That's it. I have a tiny goal of sitting down for a few minutes in the evening, after I've taken my nightly shower, and writing down my thoughts. It's very easy to get stuck in the same patterns of thinking. One of the useful things about this blog is the ability to re-read it and realize I've been behaving like a jackass. Like how I'm so much less tolerant of any amount of discomfort. I blame the medication. That's the thing about being depressed; I was half-miserable all the time so I would do a lot more stuff, because what's a little more suffering?
Oh, it's cold outside? That's fine; the icy grip of sadness is already clutching at my throat; I doubt I'll even notice it.
Hey what the hell...I appear to have downloaded something called MuseHub. Was I drunk on the internet again? I vaguely remember thinking about making music. Also thinking that it's probably too late to get really good at learning to play an instrument, but not too late to use music software to make sad banjo songs.
Yeah, I must have. I also seem to have downloaded Audacity. Oh wait, I think that was because I wanted to record myself reading Moby Dick so when I die and if someone wants to hear my voice again, they'll have to sit through Moby Dick.
It's very easy to get stuck in the same patterns of thinking.
