DRY Ink

I’m taking an mental health day. I’m obviously in need, as I just about went postal in two separate places of business this morning.

But I leave you with the little bastard that wakes me up every morning by scampering through the attic and chucking things at my window.

Hopefully this is the photo we will use at his/her eulogy.

After I fire bomb him/her.

I’ve decided to dedicate July, or what’s left of it, to truth. I really like this idea, especially because there is a lot of truths I’m having to learn in my life right now. Don’t get me wrong, things are great, I mean REALLY great. It’s just that they are completely different from how I thought my life would look at this point. Or even look if it was really great. And that’s okay, as I’m now learning.

Take work for example. I’ve repetitively said I would quit when I became licensed. That’s just not happening, even if I wanted to. Between shortages, schedules and hiring freezes, there is no way in hell I’m leaving my office high and dry right now. But here’s the truth of it: I don’t want to. Since starting the application process and becoming licensed, I find myself much more energized. I no longer feel like a second class citizen, doing the same things as everyone else and getting over looked and paid half. Mostly because, well, I’m not any more. That’s helped, I have to admit, but there’s more. Somewhere in this process I have found my bliss again. I have relearned why I do this. Part of this is due to some successes I’ve had and part of it is just really being needed. But what ever it is, it’s working. At least for now. I’m not saying I’m now immune to burn out. It is still there, I feel it below the surface, but for now it is staying below and as long as it does, I’m going to keep my head down and keep working. And hopefully helping and making a difference for some people.

So this is where I sit today, as I try to wrap up some projects around the house before heading out to Beach Week ‘09. Which is no easy task, because I’ve recently discovered decorating blogs. (I know, as usual, I’m really late to the party.) I started building a new bench for the mud room at eight o’clock last night. Jeff has threaten to put parental control software on my laptop to monitor the use of my newly discovered porn. (Yes, it is that bad. How did I not know this stuff was out there people? I blame you.)

But I’m gonna keep sitting, and working and killing Jeff with my late night/heel wearing projects, because I’m liking where I’m sitting right now. It’s different, but it’s really comfortable.

Now let’s get packed people, ’cause we head out early in the morning. No pushing or shoving and last one on the beach is a rotten egg.

*Completely stolen from Rae, who stole it from her nephew.

This morning, while I was installing hooks and molding in the mudroom . . .

Jeff said to me . . .

“You do realize that we just built and entire addition to our home, just to store our kids’ crap?”

I just smiled and said. “Yes we did.”

The itch is back. It is a terrible agonizing itch that can not be ignore. I spend my days wandering through the house, wondering how to scratch it. I know I shouldn’t. I realize that half way through, it will be painful and possibly bloody, and I will probably regret ever scratching it. But I can not resist. It must be scratched. The itch can not be ignored, will not be ignored. I’ve tried, really I have. I have paced every inch of DRY Ink trying to find a way to fight it, or at least a smaller itch to scratch. But alas, it is not to be. Nothing else will do. Monday I start on the largest project to date here at DRY Ink headquarters. Monday I scratch the mud room addition itch. Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it when I’m bleeding.