Thud. Thud. Thud.
I heard this sound, looked over and saw Julia bouncing her head off the wall. She had the good sense to hold a towel up to protect her forehead from the rough surface of the wall. That's about as far as her good sense led her.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I banging my head," she answered.
I can't say that I blame her. It's been a rainy weekend and we haven't left the house much. Deb and Allie lectured me for spending too much time on the computer. I'm not sure what I should have been doing instead. It's not as if I didn't get anything at all accomplished this weekend. But I was experimenting with the old G3 again (it's now back in Allie's room waiting to be networked with a very old Quadra 660 AV). And as far as not venturing past our property line goes I'll blame it not only on the weather but the price of gas.
I realize that doesn't hold water but massive rationalization is one of my favorite pastimes.
Now I'm wrestling with my Sunday evening blues. We've all experienced it to one extent or another.
Tomorrow morning will be here soon. In a flash I'll find myself sitting in front of yet another computer wondering why I took those photos of myself in my underwear. It was, more or less, my equivalent to Julia banging her head. I've read articles that say photos like these are inspirational and help people get back into shape. Instead they looked like materials for a fetishist's portfolio. A little liquid latex and a strategically placed banana and I'd be one post away from permanently detaching myself from polite society.
Actually they just look like me standing in line at the water park. This is the case even if I had donned the latex and banana.