Poor Jimmy doesn't work at BMW anymore. I wondered why he was coming home so late that I didn't even notice he came home at all (except for the toilet seat being up, but I don't freak out about that kind of thing like some people).

So he's not working and since energy is neither created nor detroyed, I'm taking over his share.

I can't remember if I reported that I got a promotion.
Well, if I didn't report it before, I'm doing it now! Yay for being Managing Editor!

Except that I can't take on the new position full-time until some of my higher-profile projects are done. That means I'll be a project manager until at least January. Which would be OK, except that I've got sitemares up the wazoo.

I was just telling someone that I realized that I've been talking about my job a lot. It's a very North-American thing to do, I noticed while I was in Australia. And now I realize it I talk about my job because I don't really DO much else. It is my life right now.

And I think that's why I'm so crabby; although I like my job, essentially, it's all there is to life right now and so, when something goes wrong (as it invariably does) it's harder to shake off as unimportant.

It's taken over my mind and I'm having trouble sleeping. I keep thinking of all those things I've forgotten to do, or how I should approach this or that problem, or deal with that difficult client. It's not healthy.

I want to get to a point of zen - where the motivation to do things right doesn't cause stress. Where I can see beyond the immediate rush and details and have that perspective on what is really important.