It was cold today, real cold. I didn’t go out much. I did a bit of work in the shop, but only a bit because I couldn’t feel my fingers after a few minutes. That happened last time too, but this time I wore heavier gloves. I still couldn’t feel ‘em. It really makes me sad for the chickens. No heat, no light, nothing to do, just feathers and friends. I love our chickens, and I’m glad none of have died for a few months, but I’m also more distant thant them than I’ve ever been. 

But this post isn’t about chickens, it’s about Sindome. I’ve quit a few times in the past, and I’ve quit again just now. I’ve quit and it’s felt like a drug, and I’ve quit and it felt like a hobby I’ve gotten bored of. This time it feels like a bit of both, I guess. 

Not because I’m tempted to go back, because I’m not, but because I feel like it’s not great for me, and I’m glad It’s further off. 

I’ve been making slow progress outlining my book, and that feels nice, nicer than an ineffectual, uninspired roleplaying game that I enjoy mostly for the fact that I’m better at writing than most of the people that play it with me. That’s pride fuckin’ with you. It’s not a good reason to do a thing, or not to do it.

We’re getting there anyways, at least mentally.