aaarggh

I had today off from work, and M spent it off with friends, and I find myself, at the end of it, upset with myself.  It's not that I didn't do anything useful or fun with myself today.  No, I went to pilates, got a nice hair cut, went for a walk, watched a Dr. Who episode, and got some shopping done. 

What bugs me is threefold: I didn't do anything about getting a new job, or spend any time writing.  I didn't connect with friends, even though I could have, had I just pulled my cranium from my sphincter.  And, while it felt satisfying in itself, I wound up spending more than an hour at the store anyway.  (I stopped by to retrieve a dropped glove, and stayed fiddling with things, calling UPS to see if they fix their screw up of not delivering today's shipment, and then writing up this post.)

I hate myself when I futz around like this.  I'm very conscious that I'm getting older every day, that I'm letting the only life I'll ever have slip away stupidly, and that if I don't want to look back and regret my 30s the way I regret my 20s, I have to fucking change things.   And it makes me angry at myself, which makes me sullen and withdrawn, which is no fun for poor millari.

Which is a pity, because living with her continues to be the one life choice with which I am satisfied on a daily basis.