Marked Lack of Enthusiasm

I wish I could get enthused about something (she writes knowing that she drugs herself for fear of feeling much of anything at all these days).  Obsess on politics once more.  Save the Siberian Tree Frog?  Take up the sad cause of one-legged, hydroencephalitic flamenco dancers in Brazil?  I need a reason to keep draggin' my cranky, snaky ass around all day.

Maybe I should fall in love again.  I'll have to choose the right person to obsess over, though.  Someone who is thoroughly inappropriate who will cause me lots and lots of problems so that I'm distracted from, and have no time for, my own problems with myself and my life.  Some complex, and brooding, alcoholic or addict with a history of suicide and/or violence, and, preferably, a dark and horrid past.  Oh!  And please let him be married with a whole herd of children!  I will proclaim, "I will fix him! (or her, I'm no sexist)!", and I will spend the rest of my life insuring that both of us are deeply, and profoundly, miserable so that when the moment for the inevitable murder/suicide arrives we'll both be so, so very grateful...

Anything to avoid the new round of tests I have to go for today in about an hour...