Ambition ≤ Disappointment

Last day at the factory for a week.  For some reason, though, rather than ecstasy, I feel anxiety.  I do not take enough time off, I know, and perhaps I have become an automaton.  That is how I feel.  What does a machine do if it is not working?

Much trepidation.

I have work to do here, though.  There is weeding and mulching and planting galore.  If I really wanted to be productive, I could paint some of the rooms inside the house.

I just feel sick with doom.  Paralyzed by it.

I shot this picture from the car as I was driving by.  I had an idea for a car series.  It seems dumb now.

I must give up ambition in order to rid myself of disappointment.

Breathe.  Breathe.  Breathe.