The Will to Glower

My parents bought me a pressure cooker and it's pretty sweet. Now I have a new Mac and a new pressure cooker, and I'm really not sure which one is sweeter. The Mac is pretty fucking sweet, and there's the added charm that I didn't let them pay for it; it's the shiny aluminum fruit of my labour. But the pressure cooker has the charm of being a gift, and I can cook ceci soup in it, which I did, last night, for my darling and my parents. I can't do that with the Mac. Anyways, the mother and father have gone off to Italy now; I'm sad, don't want to talk to anybody about anything - least of all business - and my will to work is at an all time low.

I realized a couple of weeks ago that I have enough money now to move on and do something else with my life. It's not enough in the sense of it being anywhere close to my savings goals or letting me have a child without lying there like a beached whale wondering how I'm going to pay for it, but it's enough in the sense that it would let me move on and do something else with my life. That, combined with feeling sad and grumpy my parents have left, and feeling surprised and pleased that they seem to understand that I will have to slow down and hippy out pretty soon - and they're not worried about it, unless they're far better actors than I've given them credit for - all that combines and leaves me with no will to work. Back down to worrying about my manager's bonuses again. Ah, I'll pull my thumb out, they deserve it.