I just had this brilliant insight. Being at a job I don't love will be hard a lot, interspersed with moments of okayness. Just like life. Being a talented, eccentric and scattered artisan (and needing real money), having to produce, and to market myself, will also be hard a lot. Being at home all day, impoverished, alone, not helping anyone, least of all myself, is maybe harder than being at an imperfect job, doing it imperfectly. Maybe facing the unpleasant feelings moment by moment is the best I can do, knowing that they aren't there 100% of the time. I don't know. I'm making this up as I go along. Sorry for this tome. Maybe I should write up the rest of my memoir and look for a publisher.