fuck

I returned home from vacation today and haven't done anything of note. Scratch that. I ate a giant Slim Jim. Using productivity and multitasking as my benchmark, I haven't done a damned thing. All this thinking about productivity reminds me of my extreme Catholic upbringing. Sex in the church was viewed at as a necessary evil; something mommies and daddies who loved each other very much did in the dark (silently and with minimal nudity, natch). The end result was always, always children. Although I've since defected from the church, this sentiment has carried over into my adult life (not entirely, as I still enjoy a sweat-your-hair-out, spank-me-daddy fuckfest) in that I cannot engage in any activity if I don't feel it will ultimately result in a tangible finished product of some kind. Ladies and gentlemen, I've never learned how to have fun.

I dropped my iPod in the toilet in Florida and I bought a new one this evening. Of course, the sonofabitch isn't working, so I'm sans tunes for tomorrow's run. I can accept the idiocy of dropping my iPod in the toilet and having to drop "earmarked for four inch patent leather pumps" coin for another. But for the new one not to work is not in the plan. When things don't go according to my plan, that's when I lose my mind. My husband and I have spent the better part of the evening trying to make it work, but to no avail. I'm wasting time and I don't like that.

This week, I'm going to learn to have fun. Fun for the sake of fun. There doesn't always have to be a reason. It's not always creating a product, reaching the goal or even coming. Sometimes it's just a fuck.