I wish I had riotously funny things to write about, but instead I find myself writing around issues, or rather, not writing around issues for months at a time - actively working to avoid talking about the things I'm not going to talk about.
It's been difficult and worrisome, the culture here in Ottawa - we've all been waiting for today. The Federal Budget - we keep hearing from our Senior Management Team that the Public Service will be much smaller when we're through this - Communication is essential, after all - so plan ahead and keep options open. (What options?? Dude. This is what I do. There's not a whole lotta call for a specialist in F-P/T relations outside of Government. Even if I'm good at it, and have mad, read MAD, people skillz.) I do. I can't even talk about how mad they are.
It's exhausting, trying to plan ahead for the unknown, with a car that is 21 years old, and a 'good car' that's 11 years old, and a dishwasher with a rack that no longer actually supports the weight of dishes (or the dishes themselves)... I'm just tired.
I'm tired of the things I can't talk about and the things that I can.
But as I keep telling myself, I have lots of people who love me, and food to eat, and a warm, dry place to sleep at night, and my kids are healthy and we're happy. So that's good right? It's good. It is, in fact, a best case scenario.
But you know what would have made this difficult few weeks so much easier? A little bit of chocolate to fill in the cracks and smooth the edges of the anxiety to help me manage and help me sleep. Alas, (and coincidentally) what do you think I've given up for Lent? Lord help me. (no, I mean it. Please, Jesus, help me.)