The wall, let me hit you with it.
Ugh. Remember how I'm always talked about trying to achieve this mythical balance? Where I go to work, go to the gym, go out with friends, laugh and joke and form relationships, eat a sensible dinner, come home and tidy, write a thousand words of moving fic, wash my face and moisturize, teach myself French in 10 minutes a day, before going to bed at 10:30 for a soothing eight hours of sleep? Some mythical world that mixes responsibility with practicality with having fun in equal amounts?
Still having trouble with that.
Last week I stayed in on Monday. Every other night I went out, saw people, or did something that was not just being at home. One day out of seven spent at home, thinking, doing chores, being a lump. RESTING. Granted I did things I wanted to do. I went a great date, I saw my beloved walkawayslowly, went skating, went shopping, etc. etc. I don't want to STOP doing that, but there's a problem here.
Last night I went out with The Boy and I was punch drunk and when I got home I looked in the mirror and discovered that I looked GENUINELY crazy. My cardigan was buttoned wrong and unbeknown to me, not blow-drying my hair and letting it air dry was an abysmally bad choice. I was also not the most conversational girl. Thank God this wasn't our second date or anything. Still. I didn't want to go out, really, I don't normally on Monday, but I like him and I wanted to see him and that resulted with me looking crazy and not being on my A game.
Work today was. Lord. POINTLESS. I don't even care anymore. I do a lot of work. Who the fuck cares? I don't do the work I'm expected to do? Who the fuck cares? Since I know that I will neither be fired nor rewarded, I find myself watching Evgeni Plushenko's Nijinsky tribute program?
Then this afternoon, as I drove home from work, I got pulled over for my expired tags. A practical thing that has needed to be taken care of for freakin' ages, but I just never, ever find the time and energy to do. Whoops. Now I have two citations in my purse and a date with the lines at various government offices.
I don't want to go to the County Clerk and deal with my change of address, officer, I want go see Iron Man 2.
::sigh::
As it is, I came home, tidied, vacuumed, cleaned the litter box, did the dishes, washed all my sheets, made a pasta dinner with enough left over for tomorrow's lunch, and made cookies for my co-workers. I feel immensely pleased with doing all that, and it's good that I did this because I have plans to be out all evening tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday. If I hadn't done this stuff tonight, when would I have done it?
But now it's almost 10:30 and I should be lying down in my bed, reviewing some French before I turn out the light for my eight hours of sleep. Instead I want to stay up until midnight like I do every night, reading and watching Stephane Lambiel videos and avoiding the idea that when I wake up in the morning I have to go to work.
Bugger.
Still having trouble with that.
Last week I stayed in on Monday. Every other night I went out, saw people, or did something that was not just being at home. One day out of seven spent at home, thinking, doing chores, being a lump. RESTING. Granted I did things I wanted to do. I went a great date, I saw my beloved walkawayslowly, went skating, went shopping, etc. etc. I don't want to STOP doing that, but there's a problem here.
Last night I went out with The Boy and I was punch drunk and when I got home I looked in the mirror and discovered that I looked GENUINELY crazy. My cardigan was buttoned wrong and unbeknown to me, not blow-drying my hair and letting it air dry was an abysmally bad choice. I was also not the most conversational girl. Thank God this wasn't our second date or anything. Still. I didn't want to go out, really, I don't normally on Monday, but I like him and I wanted to see him and that resulted with me looking crazy and not being on my A game.
Work today was. Lord. POINTLESS. I don't even care anymore. I do a lot of work. Who the fuck cares? I don't do the work I'm expected to do? Who the fuck cares? Since I know that I will neither be fired nor rewarded, I find myself watching Evgeni Plushenko's Nijinsky tribute program?
Then this afternoon, as I drove home from work, I got pulled over for my expired tags. A practical thing that has needed to be taken care of for freakin' ages, but I just never, ever find the time and energy to do. Whoops. Now I have two citations in my purse and a date with the lines at various government offices.
I don't want to go to the County Clerk and deal with my change of address, officer, I want go see Iron Man 2.
::sigh::
As it is, I came home, tidied, vacuumed, cleaned the litter box, did the dishes, washed all my sheets, made a pasta dinner with enough left over for tomorrow's lunch, and made cookies for my co-workers. I feel immensely pleased with doing all that, and it's good that I did this because I have plans to be out all evening tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday. If I hadn't done this stuff tonight, when would I have done it?
But now it's almost 10:30 and I should be lying down in my bed, reviewing some French before I turn out the light for my eight hours of sleep. Instead I want to stay up until midnight like I do every night, reading and watching Stephane Lambiel videos and avoiding the idea that when I wake up in the morning I have to go to work.
Bugger.