Like a staggeringly-large number of Americans, I'm currently in therapy. Unfortunately, my exact and specific goals are not very well-defined at this point. In the general, nebulous sense I want to stop my procrastination, or at least significantly reduce it. Beyond that, there are a lot of other issues of varying degrees of severity and importance (some of which I may even write about in a future installment). But for now, I'd be happy to kick this habit of pissing away whole evenings and/or weekends.

Today, right at the very end, something slipped out that has been bothering me ever since, like when I pick up a few loose grains of cat-litter on my sock, and they proceed to irritate the sole of my foot in the shoe the rest of the day. You're probably quite familiar with the feeling.

We'd been talking about a close friend of mine, and some conflicts I'd had not some much with, as related to, her. As time was winding down, shrink says, "Let's get back to Randy for the last few minutes." Without even thinking about it ahead of time, I just chuckled and said, "Why? There isn't any 'Randy' to get back to. Haven't you figured that out yet? All I am is my reactions to others."

I wish I hadn't said that, because now I can't quit trying to figure out just what I meant by it, or where it came from. Grrr.