I hate my inbox.
It is unmanageable. If I leave the house for just 30 minutes, I return to 50 new messages -- most of them junk.
"Why don't you just delete them?" my husband asks.
I do. There was a time when I answered everything within 24 hours, if just to say "thanks, but no thanks." I can't do that any longer. There is more incoming than I can handle. Seventy percent of it gets trashed without any acknowledgement, and it makes me feel guilty.
Writing this blog used to be fun. It still is; most of the time. But today -- not so much.
My foul mood is probably tied to the calendar. It's the last day of the month and I have yet to muster up the courage to balance my checkbook and deal with the bills. This is a task I have to tackle before the day is done, and it's not going to be pretty.
Then, I need to work on some client projects -- which don't excite me, but will enable me to send out invoices that could make next month's bills a little less daunting.
And maybe then I'll be able to relax and have some fun.