The perils of being an adult.
There's this phenomenon that always happens to me, and my brain keeps calling it Dickensian Syndrome, because I swear that's what I've heard it called AND I swear it was mentioned in a Charles Dickens novel, but now there is no mention of that to be found soooooooo....yeah.
What happens is that it'll be Sunday, all fine and well, then Monday (my other day off) rolls around, and some Mondays involve not much more than just me lying in bed. Sleeping, not sleeping, reading, but mostly just enjoying being naked in a big comfortable bed because Daytime Nappin For The Win. It feels right - catching up on rest and enjoying not having any appointments (on the days there are none), but there is a huge nagging sense of "What are you doing!? There are THINGS TO BE DONE!!" that doesn't allow me to fully enjoy it. It takes a concerted effort on my part to just calm down and relax into the moment. Part of my brain is panicking, telling me not to waste one more moment lolling around in bed and get outside for chrissakes, there is sun and wind and beach to play in, hurry and don't miss the moment, and don't forget about your laundry, fuck, the laundry, you're NEVER going to get it done even though there is less than half a basket and WHAT ABOUT YOUR CLOSET DEAR GOD REORGANIZE IT!
So, all that happens. But bed feels so nice.
And the point I'm making is that (I seem to recall that it's called) Dickensian Syndrome because in one of Dickens' novels the character basically can't enjoy the last day of his weekend because he focuses on how it is the last day of his weekend, those hours before he has to punch a clock to start his week's work.
It's strange to feel this fight in my head, while I step away and participate in it all at once. Then it's 3:48PM and nothing has been done except to put on my robe and enjoy my coffee while browsing Livejournal, waiting for a call from a friend.
What happens is that it'll be Sunday, all fine and well, then Monday (my other day off) rolls around, and some Mondays involve not much more than just me lying in bed. Sleeping, not sleeping, reading, but mostly just enjoying being naked in a big comfortable bed because Daytime Nappin For The Win. It feels right - catching up on rest and enjoying not having any appointments (on the days there are none), but there is a huge nagging sense of "What are you doing!? There are THINGS TO BE DONE!!" that doesn't allow me to fully enjoy it. It takes a concerted effort on my part to just calm down and relax into the moment. Part of my brain is panicking, telling me not to waste one more moment lolling around in bed and get outside for chrissakes, there is sun and wind and beach to play in, hurry and don't miss the moment, and don't forget about your laundry, fuck, the laundry, you're NEVER going to get it done even though there is less than half a basket and WHAT ABOUT YOUR CLOSET DEAR GOD REORGANIZE IT!
So, all that happens. But bed feels so nice.
And the point I'm making is that (I seem to recall that it's called) Dickensian Syndrome because in one of Dickens' novels the character basically can't enjoy the last day of his weekend because he focuses on how it is the last day of his weekend, those hours before he has to punch a clock to start his week's work.
It's strange to feel this fight in my head, while I step away and participate in it all at once. Then it's 3:48PM and nothing has been done except to put on my robe and enjoy my coffee while browsing Livejournal, waiting for a call from a friend.