back, in color.

No matter how hard you try, it is impossible to unpack and clean and generally feel a grip on life in one day.

I AM PROVIDENCE, says H. P. Lovecraft’s gravestone. Gunther and I did find it, with a little help from our Google.

I’m cosmically exhausted, but battle with illness is proceeding better now that driving hundreds of miles is not daily reality. My mind is laced with things and people, tied tight with the largest ball of twine in the world. (Photos to phollow, when developed – ah, analog cameras!)

I’m also finding myself all too ready to revert to old, frustrating, poor time-management patterns; so about ten minutes ago Cox agreed to disconnect my ‘net service from home. This means I’ll be doing everything internet-related from the university, which should suffice. Home will be quiet, and the inside of my head will be quiet, and sanctuary is an appealing prospect. This is a long-winded PSA: in short, e-mail is no longer the most efficient way to get in touch with me (although I’ll still likely check it every day). If you don’t have my telephone number(s) and want them, uh, e-mail me.

Exhausted or not, tomorrow is a work day. I’m not ready for this.