I'm just too busy working towards my liquidation point.
No, this is not a new and clever form of self-destructive behavior. If I want to make myself cry, I can always watch Big Fish and then call my dad. If I want to make myself sick, I'll have Gobstoppers, Twizzlers and beer.
I'm trying to run down the clock on my temping contract. My agency calls this my "liquidation point." Which sort of sounds like I'm being chopped up and sold for parts. Or that I'm some sort of sentient Circuit City. But it really means that when I hit a certain number of hours, I switch over from temp to salaried.
Anyhow, that's where I've been. In the land of productive employment, which is getting pretty lonely. In case you've been wondering. See you soon, once the dust settles and I've finished my stash of emergency stress-ball Gobstoppers.