If I was still in Bloomfield living with Sean, tonight would have been a Lace night.

Lace is a go-go bar in Wayne, just off Route 46. Sean and I spent many a night there when we first were rooming together, and I spent far too many nights there on my own chasing Pandora (Who I eventually became friends with--and yes, I know her real name. On the one hand, it's rather nice to think that I was actually friends with a go-go dancer, but considering this all came about because I paying for lap dances, well, I suppose that's for another blog ramble.)

Anyway, after a while Sean and I got tired of stuffing singles down the g-strings of women who weren't going home with us, but we still would have the occasional forway to Lace, mostly when one of us was having a really bad day.

I had a really bad day. I mean, there are worse days; no one died or lost their home or anything. But work was pretty rough as it was the kind of day where you struggle to get one thing done and in the meantime thirty other issues pile up on your to-do list to the point that you just spent eight hours busting your ass and can't find anything to show for it.

Workdays like this have the double-edged sword of ignornace, because so many problems I'm supposed to resolve require knowledge that is utterly beyond me. Now, this is how the system works--no one expects you to know everything, as that would entail having intimate knowledge of hundreds of customers highly-customized computer systems. But when you're the guy trying to help these people and you don't know how, and the people that do are busy with their own issues . . . well, the helplessness is pretty damn palptable.

And such is my life.

The worse thing is, it's 10:30 at night and I haven't felt like I've decompressed at all. I came home, went over to Mike's for our walk, talked Bright-Matrix business, joined him as he picked up Erin which led us to going out for dinner and some more business talk once we got back to their apartment. I walked into my own apartment just as the clock struck nine and I've spent the better part of the last nintey minutes making my moves on Itsyourturn.com and catching up on the latest posts on the Velvet Forum.

I can't unwind and be active. True unwinding doesn't really happen when I'm doing something--now that I've started walking a few times a week, that helps, but it's still an activity. True unwinding required complete vegetation, usually spent in front of the TV and letting my brain melt. Anything else that required thought or physical exertion merely prolongs the need to decompress.

What can I say, I'm a weird guy.

Ah well. I think at this point I shall pop in another Season Three episode of "Gilmore Girls" and hopefully let some of this stress melt away.