Monday, August 13, 2012


What is it with this underlying, free-floating guilt-ish kind of feeling that occasionally surfaces in my otherwise pretty contented sea of existence? I really don’t want to do much in a day. And I don’t need to, but some part of me must think I should be more productive.

When I was working I would stay up late. Way too late. I was reluctant to let go of the only part of the day that was mine. That habit is still with me. And I still wake up around 6:30.  I never did learn to nap. So, I can be physically tired from doing … not much. Before, I was probably tired much of the time, but I had that steady low-dose cortisol (the “stress hormone”) drip that kept me going.  

A friend said I’m “de-toxing”. I think that’s it. I’m in rehab. I’m doing a stint at my own little at-home Sierra Tucson. In-house treatment. Getting that drug out of my system.

I know, I think I’ll redefine reading as “being productive”. 

I think this little talk has gone rather well, don’t you?  Thank you for listening. I feel better now.

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