So, quite clearly, my life is broken. And I broke it. My bank account is overdrawn, I can’t pay my phone bill, my shoes have holes somewhere in the soles which let the rain in from the street, and I continue to work only half-time at a place where I arguably have the hardest job but have the fewest hours and get the least pay. I clean my apartment only to the point where I can go “good enough” even though in reality it isn’t. I’ve had to resign my duties at the just-launched Fans4Writers effort, and will be doing the same for PDX Browncoats, because no one and nothing should depend on me — because I can’t even depend on me. My life is broken. And I broke it. So it’s time to clear the decks of everything else until I can find which pieces of my brain need reconnecting in order to live at least as a reasonable facsimile of an adult human being. Don’t hold your breath.
