This is one of those times when I don’t have anything to write. I don’t want to write and I feel crappy about it. Ever since Grandpa died, I haven’t wanted to write and all the weblogs have gone dark. I know he wouldn’t have wanted that. He was the kind of man who prized work above everything.

Hard worker.

I don’t think you could give me a better compliment than that and it’s all because of how I was raised: by my mom, my dad and my grandparents.

I haven’t been much of a hard worker lately. I think I’ve been wallowing in it a little. I’ve been doing my best to achieve one good thing a day. Do laundry. Change the sheets. Empty the suitcases. Anything to mark it down as an achievement. Honestly, I feel like I can’t do anything more.

Stacey and I had a talk today and she said that being forced back to work actually helped her, so here I am, forcing myself back to work. A good day is six units, so I’m doing six units today.

This is number one.