I've got a bad case of the Mondays! Ha! Ha!

No, seriously. My doctor thinks I may need surgery.

Work is kicking my ass. I really shouldn't complain, as I just spent a couple of hours putting together a lion made out of Legos. But still. I am unmotivated to the extreme. When should I finally decide to call it a day, and live the life of a pauper artist? I mean, I roll my eyes at those who refuse to "work for the man" (because it's so much more noble to work for peanuts, and to not have health insurance), but I still wish I wasn't, well, working for the man. Not because of any political or pseudo-wannabe-bohemian stance but because I would be so much happier if I was actually spending 40-hours-plus a week doing things I like to do. I could probably come up with a couple of money-making schemes, and go into business for myself. However, I have an inherent laziness and tendency to not follow projects through to the end (see: Art-o-mat blocks, still unfinished and unsent; see: www.chowflap.com; see: strip quilt project, on hold until it gets colder out; see: Fellowship of the Ring book, abandoned halfway through). I have completed many things, though, so I am trying not to get all defeatist on my ass.