Blog Blues

I have a dozen unfinished drafts waiting to be posted but I'm not sure if it makes any sense to try. I got accepted to that webring and I even got a few compliments. But now I'm in a writing rut, and I'm starting to think that this was all just a bad idea.

I am not that funny nor profound, yet I really want people to read my writing. I have great ideas for things to write, but by the time I get to my computer, everything is lost. Carrying a notebook to jot things down doesn't always help because it is hard to write while driving or when out and about doing all the things I do.

Like dance class. I start back tomorrow and then I have a meeting right after that. Then my hub suggested that we check out one of the end-of-summer festivals in the area and that means my entire day is booked up and over. When am I supposed to find time to write?

I am not a morning person, and after last night it is becoming clear that I am not much of a night owl anymore either. I am always tired. I wonder if I'm sick, but then my hub will accuse me of being a hypochondriac (sp?).

I've had a rough week, and starting back at school only added to my stress. It took me 90 minutes to commute from my house to this campus location in Waldorf, which means that this is what I have to look forward to for the next six weeks. Yesterday it took me two hours! My entire day must now revovle around getting to and from this class.

As much as I like to drive, I have come to hate it more and more these days. I spend most of my vacations behind the wheel of the car because Rick gets too nervous and erratic when he drives in strange places. He finally developed enough nerve to drive in Brooklyn, but anyplace else and he is riding shotgun. Just like the entire week we spent in Florida; I did all the driving, as if I knew how to navigate through Miami any better than he did.

I feel like my ass should be permanently indented in the drivers' seat of the car. The car should be contoured to my frame, but recently that doesn't appear to be the case. A few weeks ago, Rick and I were driving back from New York with his mother, and on the first leg of the trip he drove. We get to South Jersey to change over, but as soon as I buckle in, the seat belt light starts to flash. Now it does that every time I drive, but whenever he drives, the light stays off. So now I have this light flashing all the time to annoy me while I sit in traffic on my way to wherever.

I need a new routine. I need a mechanism for interacting with other humans on a regular basis, and so far, that is not happening. I have no where to go during the day becasue I have no money and everybody is at work. The other women my age who are at home are taking care of their children. Children are cute, but must I have one to rejoin civil society?

When this work-from-home experiment began, I ate outside of the house at least twice a week, just for a change of scenery. Eventually, eating out got too expensive and costly on other fronts--I ballooned to nearly 175 pounds and now my cholesterol is high. (I'm 5'10, so no one really thought I was fat, but once the number 12 became more common in the dressing room, I got my act together.) So enter the much ballyhooed bike, my big ticket item of the summer. My thinking was that I would ride all around the city and keep in shape at the same time. Wrong. From that vantage point, cars are instruments of certain death, so I ride on the sidewalk and look like an idiot because even the kids are riding in the street.

The latest is that I am not speaking to one of my brothers. My parents have the nerve to suggest that I am being unreasonable even though he was the one who acted like an ass. So the hub and I have agreed not to eat there on Sundays until he offers me an acceptable apology. Since that won't happen, this Sunday will be the first test of my boycott, and I am prepared to hold out until Christmas.

Added to all of this, I broke down this week after receiving a package from another atty on this pro bono case that I never should have agreed to take. My client is literally a disaster waiting to happen, and I am totally in over my head. What the hell was I thinking?

I am a mess. A grand hot mess. This might be the first time that my winter blahs began in September...