It’s late Sunday night and I’ve managed to wholly depress myself with an epically long West Wing fan fiction. Seriously. Why do I read stories with long epilogues that track the characters as they age and eventually grow old and die? They just depress me.

The fact that I am writing about West Wing fan fiction depressing me should theoretically depress me (in terms of That Is Pathetic) but I am so past the point of caring by now. Does that count as self acceptance? I’m going to go with yes. I read West Wing fan fiction people. I also still read Law & Order SVU fan fiction, although I am not as obsessed as I once was. And when I was 15-16 I was ADDICTED to Dawson’s Creek fan fiction.

This weekend was a total wash. Friday night I was tired to the point of not being able to sleep. Then on Saturday libertarian-esque meeting for Saturday was cancelled. And then Saturday night was just dull.

I did get laundry done and I did, finally-finally, make it to the gym.

But my mom is annoyed with me for the dumbest reason ever (involving me not getting a text message because I didn’t have my phone with me at that exact second and therefore not replying to her text message), I have to be at work early tomorrow and I feel like I STILL didn’t get enough sleep this weekend, and I didn’t get anything done on the job application front this past week. So I’m wound up and frustrated and I really don’t want to go to work tomorrow.