I suppose that it may be a little rash to compare my apartment to a bombed out building in Beirut, but it feels that way.

Today is the tenth day in a row that I have put on a shirt and tie and gone to work. Normally, I have weekends off, but with the state’s fiscal budget (now past due) in the works, all of us who work at the Capitol are here extra hours.

I feel as if I haven’t been home in days. To some degree that’s an exaggeration, but that’s how I feel. I haven’t had much time to spend with my dog or relaxing and haven’t gone grocery shopping–and by that I mean filling a cart–since the early March, right before the last governor publicly disgraced himself. I have put on a pound, taken one off and pout on back on again. As of this morning, I was up to 188. I intend on taking it off. I also haven’t been able to do much running. My room is a mess. My whole apartment is a wreck and I don’t like how it feels.

I really hope that we can be sprung for the weekend. My mind works better with order. It will be nice to have a good few hours to mindfully clean my apartment, do laundry and go grocery shopping. In the meantime, what I can do for now is to clean off the pile of refuse on my desk which actually does resemble Beirut, circa 1975.

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