Something I thought was going somewhere ended in the least face-saving way possible ('the connection's not strong enough... oh and there's someone else...') AND I did my taxes, late, feeling like a lazy disorganized person. (Feeling? Being, rather.)
But. There are consolations. Truth is better than confusion. And I can open myself up, have it not work, and life will go on. The Feds are giving me lots of lovely money. And I have confirmed that Sleater-Kinney can relieve angst just as well now as when I was 17.
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