The power of orange knickers.

Bored.

Bored. Bored. Bored.

Or should I say, “boring?”

That’s me in a nutshell. Not much going on. Things are fine. Work is busy, but fine. I’ve been hitting the gym a lot this month…which is fine. I’m hoping that by summer I can get back into some semblance of the physical shape I was once in (not all that long ago, really). It’s amazing how quickly those things can reverse themselves. (With my body and eating habits, at least.) So I’m committed to that, and have been carrying sneakers and gym clothes with me everywhere I go so that I can hit whatever location is convenient whenever I have time. And it’s going just fine. Yee haw.

I’m perpetually busy, and perpetually unsatisfied. However, that nagging dissatisfaction does not fill me with the hopelessness and depression it once would have. In fact, it’s been a pretty depression-free winter so far which, looking back to this time last year, is fucking amazing. And I ain’t knockin’ it! In the past, upon recognizing such a conspicuous absence, I probably would have frantically summoned the great black beast to me. But not this year. Somehow, I don’t feel that masochistic need to open my veins and wallow (and to some extent, revel) in the blood. Sweet.

What else? Well, I’ve been having a lot of really incredible sex. But no one wants to hear about stupid monogamous relationship sex, right?

See? Boring.