Tired Girls

Either I'm getting old or designing a website has gotten harder.

Oh yeah. This isn't my first rodeo. I've been creating a website for my nom de plume at least once a year. Back in the early days, when I was dedicated and ambitious and buoyed by fleeting confidence, I'd even made a Facebook page and wrote a single blog entry (as google will unhelpfully remind me).

I don't know whether I'm being a perfectionist or if I'm just procrastinating ("Both!" Psychologists everywhere shout in unison). I'd told myself that I would have this task done and ticked off the list two days ago, and as of right now I'd say that by the end of the week is a push.

I will get it done. I know I will. Something has happened in my life recently which has put a lot into perspective for me. It's the kind of life event that really crystallises so many everyday worries. The kind that reminds you very few things are as important as you think they are.

My dad died a few months ago. It was sudden and unexpected, on a grey Thursday afternoon. One minute I was going about my life, working and listening to a podcast, and then the next I was phoning my siblings and packing a suitcase in tears. Everything changed in no time at all.

I thought maybe my priorities would go back to normal as time went on - that I'd be focussing on a promotion and my next career steps. I thought maybe I'd