I didn't realize just how much of my stress and misery over the last month was caused by simple travel and lack of time. I just spent some time figuring it out, and I was only in New York for eight and a half days in June - and in those eight and a half days, I spent a hell of a lot of time packing, dealing with family stress, and doing other non-directly-productive things. I was feeling constantly stressed out about not getting any work done, but in retrospect, no bloody wonder! In fact, I don't even feel bad about having a very nearly non-productive month . . . okay, at least not much.
Now that I'm back and have two uninterrupted months of summer ahead of me, I'm finally feeling like I'm able to accomplish something. I've already gotten more done this morning on a research project than I managed to do in all of June. Even better, I'm very nearly finished with this particular project which has been hanging over my head like the ANVIL OF DOOM since, oh, the middle of April. It only needed a day or two of uninterrupted effort; I just haven't had any of that for the last two and a half months. I can't describe how happy it makes me to get this damn thing out of the way.
Even better, if I can finish this imminently, I'm going to take myself to the gym (where I also haven't been in two and a half months!) to celebrate. I was going to go out to lunch because I'm proud of myself for getting down to work, but I'd rather celebrate having this damn project off my back. Time to go rummage in the fridge and see what lunch-like things have survived my month of travel (and won't kill me if I eat them).