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grammarwomanToday I'm having the nagging suspicion that I couldn't pass a Turing test, that my brain is simply a linked list of other people's interests and opinions. It's not so much depression as mental fatigue, a bad case of the whatevers. I mean, even on the best of days, you'd be hard-pressed to get me have a firm (or hell, original) opinion on something that matters, something other than entertainment and aesthetics, where there is not so much right or wrong as feelings and guilty pleasures. Instead, today seems to be prone to blank stares and sighs.
I'd feel bad about my complete lack of interest in my current project at work, but considering the others involved fail to tell me on a timely basis when the latest build is available to test, I just can't bring myself to care. (Meanwhile, as usual, I'm totally daydreaming about all the things I could be doing at home while I have the energy and daylight, as opposed to the complete lump I turn into at 8:30 PM after the Emperor is put to bed for the evening. I would leap into an orgy of Rimmer-esque list-making if I didn't think the resulting quantity of Stuff To Do would scare me.)
Speaking of work, I keep expecting to get raked over the coals for my consistently late arrivals, but as seems to be par for the course here, no one actually mentions legitimate issues, just their own spurious accusations. Meanwhile, I had to fight down some serious rage this morning when I labored to be ready to go on time for once, getting up earlier and everything, but the Emperor lollygagged until we were late as usual. I think I need to pull out a timer and start dragging him to school when it goes off, whether or not he's dressed or finished with his breakfast.
The husband is totally ducking my attempts to have a conversation about future sproggen. Way way back, we came to the delightfully mutual conclusion that two kids was the ideal sized family for us. I would have loved to have had them less than three years apart, for conservation of energy and more. Now it's at five+, if at all. Meanwhile, everyone else, even the unlikeliest couples, are reproducing, some for the second time. The damned clock is ticking loudly in my ears, and yet I'm still overweight and we're still debt-ridden.
The irritating thing is, I know a lot of this is a funk I'm in, which could be so easily solved by the following:
Step 1: Get more sleep. Step 1a: Stop caring so much about the Internet and TV, and the keeping up with thereof. Step 2: Clean the damned house, inside and outside. Step 2a: See Step 1A. Step 3: Exercise. Step 3a: See Step 1.
And yet, Blah. In fact, blah blah blah blah blah. With an extra helping of Meh.
I'd feel bad about my complete lack of interest in my current project at work, but considering the others involved fail to tell me on a timely basis when the latest build is available to test, I just can't bring myself to care. (Meanwhile, as usual, I'm totally daydreaming about all the things I could be doing at home while I have the energy and daylight, as opposed to the complete lump I turn into at 8:30 PM after the Emperor is put to bed for the evening. I would leap into an orgy of Rimmer-esque list-making if I didn't think the resulting quantity of Stuff To Do would scare me.)
Speaking of work, I keep expecting to get raked over the coals for my consistently late arrivals, but as seems to be par for the course here, no one actually mentions legitimate issues, just their own spurious accusations. Meanwhile, I had to fight down some serious rage this morning when I labored to be ready to go on time for once, getting up earlier and everything, but the Emperor lollygagged until we were late as usual. I think I need to pull out a timer and start dragging him to school when it goes off, whether or not he's dressed or finished with his breakfast.
The husband is totally ducking my attempts to have a conversation about future sproggen. Way way back, we came to the delightfully mutual conclusion that two kids was the ideal sized family for us. I would have loved to have had them less than three years apart, for conservation of energy and more. Now it's at five+, if at all. Meanwhile, everyone else, even the unlikeliest couples, are reproducing, some for the second time. The damned clock is ticking loudly in my ears, and yet I'm still overweight and we're still debt-ridden.
The irritating thing is, I know a lot of this is a funk I'm in, which could be so easily solved by the following:
Step 1: Get more sleep. Step 1a: Stop caring so much about the Internet and TV, and the keeping up with thereof. Step 2: Clean the damned house, inside and outside. Step 2a: See Step 1A. Step 3: Exercise. Step 3a: See Step 1.
And yet, Blah. In fact, blah blah blah blah blah. With an extra helping of Meh.
