Like, say, you've been working like death on a project and finally get it done. And then it doesn't work the way it's supposed to. So there's more finagling, more consulting the oracle, more pushing away the kiddo like the harried, overworked parents in the movie Coraline.
This is when a partner might come in handy, to talk you off the ledge.
Maybe that's also the role that roommates have served for me for the past few years, and just now i've flung them all off, so i'm feeling the void. In the evolution of things i've decided it might be better to have one's own place -- including the kiddo of course -- and all the peace that comes with it, as opposed to all the financial security that comes with having more people paying the rent.
Over the past few hours i've been maniacally checking and cross-checking all the reasons why the project in question is defunct. If i had someone who cared about my well-being here in this house, they would say something like "Ok missy, time to drink some wine and think about this whole mess tomorrow." Instead i'm trading the maniacal checking for the mad tapping of these keys.
i can do this...