Drooling and snoring...

I'm finally beginning to realize that I blog more when I'm using it as an avoidance tactic. I've got something I have to do for work...and it's really not that hard, but I just don't want to do it. Of course, I'll end up doing it anyway, it will just be later tonight and I'll be grumpier and even less willing,less efficient, less complete, and more apt to make mistakes. I resent working on the weekends. But I end up just punishing myself for this resentment.

I'm nursing a wound I have from an argument I had with hubby a few hours ago. It started with (drum roll please) ...dog poop.... but not really. That's what we decided it was about, but what it really was about was much shitter than the dog shit itself, and I think we are only barely aware of what that even is. Maybe it goes back to the ageless argument of who's job is it to do what. But I think underneath that excuse it that universal need to be seen, validated, recognized, appreciated and loved. Something we both have learned very well how to withhold. Why do we withhold? Because it is being withheld. Who makes the first move? Who is adult enough here? Is it really true that you get back out what you put into a relationship? You put love in...you get love out? But how do you protect yourself from being taken advantage of? Is it also true that if you put rancor in, you get rancor back? Is there no other option other than love or rancor?

ugh. I need to change the subject or I'll never get to my work project and I'll get too worked up to sleep.

Last week I pulled several nights with little or no sleep as I trudged through the dbp.* Friday night Jason took the kids camping. (a father/son thing)...and as a reward for my hard work and since I had a whole evening just to myself...I treated myself to a professional massage. I've had plenty of massages before. Most of the time, I leave a little bit disappointed as I attempt to gauge whether the massage justifed the time and money spent to get one. But last Friday there was no question in my mind. It was Nirvana. I now know what I want in a massage. I want the pressure so deep that it hurts (in a good way). It has taken several different people over several different years each trying their own technique until I found one that I really like. After it was done, I felt like he had replaced years to my life that stress and personal abuses had robbed me of over the years. I get a massage every few months or so and I usually just jump around to different therapists. I tried sticking with one but he was really disappointing in the end. But now...I have found him. I have found the therapist with the keys to Nirvana. It will take self control to not go back too soon or too often, given the expense of it. Normally I like to chill out and not talk but I found myself unusually chatty. I found out he was a "gamer". And sometimes he'll play for an entire day without noticing time passing. He's also into creating his own computer programs, (for lack of a better word, he could describe it better than I). This massage thing was just a weekend gig. It was strange really, laying there all but entirely butt naked as this guy I'd never met before sent me to Nirvana, and there was nothing sexual about it. I started to wonder if he ever had fantasies about his clients. Of course he did. But I'm quite sure he won't fantasize about me. I believe I was so sent that I might have started to drool. Plus...I'm old. I'm getting older and as a woman, I'm moving closer and closer into the realm of sexual irrelevancy. (not as far as I'm concerned but I'm describing how I think the larger culture looks at women with gray hair).

Oih. i'm starting to nod here. I cannot fall asleep. Cannot....fall...asleep. can't fall....fall...can't.........................(snore).


*dreaded business plan