Decompression

I've been slammed with work lately. Today started with a bang. Work was going a mile a second, and I was trying to close a $25M deal with little help from anyone else. All of a sudden, the deal was postponed, and I can't find the energy to pick up on my other projects.

I am simply drained.

Stepping back into the morose, I know. It's what I said I wouldn't do, but here I am. I'd like to write off my current mental state to "season change," but I can't. Is it depression? I don't know if I'd say that either. I think it's just an extreme desire to change some things about my life, and an equally extreme inability to do so.

I am feeling trapped.

Why, you say? Well, the economy for one. I'd really like to start scaling back our financial obligations, but we won't be able to sell either our house or our townhome right now. The market is too bad. I could get rid of my fancy car, I suppose. Maybe I'll look into that.

With our financial obligations, I have no choice but to keep working a job where I make a comfortable salary -- regardless of whether I like what I'm doing. We're not living above our means, but we're certainly not below them either.

Also, it's just plain depressing where I live right now. My neighborhood is having a mini crime spree, and I don't even feel safe in my own home. Word is apparently "out" about the crime and agents have stopped bringing folks by look at new homes or resales. Fabulous for property values!

I'm really just bitching now, and I don't mean to. Okay, that's a lie. I do.

On the good side, my co-worker and I got permission to host a jewelry show in my office for early December. Wish me luck, we're currently in the designing phase and it's time-consuming and EXPENSIVE! I was up until 1:00 am last night. Perhaps my exhaustion is contributing to my mood.

Oh, and kitten-raising is hard. I had forgotten. Our two big cats have turned into nasty, snarling beasties each time the kitten comes near. The kitten is a mini-cougar who seems intent on puncturing the skin on my hands, feet and face. Yes, face. But, just as soon as I'm ready to punt his furry little ass right on out the door, he curls up on my pillow and sleeps beside my head. He really is a good little sleeper, getting 6-7 hours a night on our bed. I do love him.