Tuesday night I went to bed early and slept for ten hours, so I assume I've adjusted to daylight savings. Between head and sleep, well, it's a drag. There are other things in life. Many people with journals and blogs write about them. I know this. It doesn't seem to help.

A reasonably good day today at the office, though. Management is in continuous planning mode to come up with whatever they're going to come up with to reorganize the IT division by the end of the month and there's a certain level of wild-eyed haste in the halls. Keeps them out of your hair, of course. Lets us get some work done. That was probably hyperbole: “keeps them out of our hair”, “lets us get some work done”, but the “wild-eyed haste” is true (and tasty) enough. Of course all of us are going to take the eventual hit, proles and managers both, but that goes with the territory.

I don't know, guys. I've been stumbling along like a zombie here for some time now. Every now and then I feel better or the weather gets better or the drugs kick in and I gain perspective. Yup. A dull boy sitting here, writing this journal. I don't believe this miserable sinus-head-mouth condition is going to continue. It will turn around. Energy will return. Ideas for photographs will get me up off my butt and out on the street, maybe even into the studio, but it's interesting and depressing both to go back and read it here. An advantage to a journal: personal insight and revelation. That's what they say.