Did some work for my dad again, finally, yesterday. Long over due, I guess, but by the time I stopped I had a killer headache, and I forgot to log my hours. On the other paw, I went swimming of Friday, so my being able work at all was unexpected.
When I was angsting to my husband a few days ago, I said “I need people!” and then I stopped and said “do I need people?”
He said he thought I needed activities that would keep me involved, and over which I was not a responsible. He says first I have the kids, and then my dad's work, and even my writing I feel responsible about, and he's feeling a little guilty at having asked me to do the cover for Cantata, because now my art is work too, and I already have a nasty way of turning things that ought to be hobbies into work instead. In short, I don't have anything I do *just* for fun, every thing I do, whether I enjoy it or not, is, well, work. (I hardly ever get out of bed, but my husband thinks I'm… overworked? That's weirding me out a little.) I asked him about people again, and he thought about it and said yes. He thought I probably needed people too. Adult people. People I am not responsible for.
So I went to a science fiction fan club meeting. My first one ever. It was much more fun than going to that crit group I tried and got kicked out of. I'll have to do it again next month.
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