A long time ago in a galaxy far away, when I worked in radio, when I was upset or frustrated, I used to head into the production room for hours and take out my frustrations by creating bizarre little audio things. Most of them have dissolved into the great trash bin of time, but a few remain.
These days, I'm more apt to head down into the bowels of the basement with some cobalt drills and mild steel, or hook up the welder, or do something hands-on and creative.
Last night was apparently no exception. Where part of me wanted to wallow on the bed, this other part wanted to do something, to build something, to create. Something that needed hands-on, something that needed power tools, something that would set off the smoke alarm.
I succeeded on all three counts. Drove the dog crazy.
What I ended up with-- well, I ran out of parts. But I got a hell of a lot farther than I expected to get, and the rest of the parts I can pick up tonight. I might actually be able to finish by the wee hours of the morning. If not, I actually have some downtime on Wednesday.
It's a healthy response. Destructive to constructive.