No particular reason. I have no patience at work (and work requires a bucketful). I come home, eat, knit, watch Scrubs re-runs on Comedy Central, sometimes watch last night's Daily Show afterwards (yes, I do have crushes on both Zach Braff and Jon Stewart, why?), have a bath, cuddle the cats and go to bed.
And then I get up in the dark and do it all over again.
At least we fall back this weekend and I will be getting up when it's freaking light out. I hate to pry myself out of bed under the most ideal circs, so doing it in the cold and dark is dreary.
If I haven't said it here before I've said it elsewhere many times -- I'm a college-educated middle-class white woman in America, and therefore I have no legitimate reason to bitch. I live in a nice blue state in a decent apartment. Also, in this economy, just having a job is something to be thankful for, even if (sing it with me) I'm meant to be a housewife. This is one of those times when my parents' Depression-era "any job is a good job; shut up and suffer quietly like everyone else" attitude is actually quite apt.
But it's not actually my job that's depressing me; I think it's the depression that's exacerbating my innate impatience.
And I'm not really sure what the source of my current malaise is. Nothing has changed since a few weeks ago when I was telling a quasi-ex that I was quite happy to be on my own, having a calm life with lots of quiet time. And it's true... I like my Comedy Central knitting evenings. Hmm.
Well, the tv-yarn-bath portions of my evening are complete, and I have a cat smushed up against me, so I think it's time for the sleeping part. Only one more day to get through until I can sleep in...
No comments:
Post a Comment