Progress and Regress

I've been finding some weird things while digging through the accumulated stuff in the basement. Things like red wine vinegar, whips, masks and bottles of sunblock. I suppose if I had a kinky enough mind, I could find a way to put all those to use in one bedroom session. I also, while digging through the files to be returned to the filing cabinets, found several issues of The Fab Five Funny Farm, which was a Duran Duran humor 'zine that me and azewewish bashed out back in the halcyon days of the early '90s. On the letters page of at least one issue is an enthusiastic response from a random fan named Patty Palazzo. No lie. Small world we live in.

I read somewhere that brisk walking on a regular basis boosts the brain's sensitivity to serotonin, which is joyous news for depression-afflicted folk like me. I've made it a regular habit to go for a walk after work (it helps me decompress, actually) and I have to say, I've been feeling much better for it. In fact, I've been feeling so happy it's kinda weirding me out. But I shan't complain overmuch.

I guess I'm a little worried that too much contentment will dampen my motivation to get out of the living situation I'm in. But I have the master plan sort of mapped in my head--get paralegal certificate, find job, move out. So I'm kinda stuck in a big fat meantime until classes start in twenty days. I'm reluctant to embark on anything, lest I have to set it aside once classes start.

Vegas in eleven days. Yikes.