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December 3, 2008

That’s pretty much the opposite of my life right now. We’re back to long hours at work, so a typical day looks something like this:

Wake up.

Wonder if I have to go to work today.

Realize I do.

Grumble to myself, snuggle into my pillow, and pray that I’m sick so I can stay in bed.

Not sick. Just tired. Tired isn’t a reason to stay home from work.

Get up, assess the hair situation. Shower if necessary – always in the dark and with my eyes closed the whole time, staying in long enough to daydream about winning the lottery so I don’t ever have to wake up before I want to. Force myself to turn off the water and get out.

Get back into PJs, wander out to kitchen with wet hair and contemplate breakfast possibilities. I’m out of bananas and running low on milk (still need to get groceries), so oatmeal isn’t an option. Must be creative. Must think. Too tired to do either. Scrambled eggs it is, if I have time, that is. If not, grab an apple to munch on when I get to work.

Let the dog out, careful to shield myself from the pointless (no snow) cold. Pretend the heavy frost is snow. Sigh when that doesn’t work. Grumble at the bright sunshine. Yell to the dog to get back in the house. How can she want to play when she just got out of bed? Jealous of my morning-dog. And irritated.

Stare into pantry and refrigerator, try and come up with a lunch option of some sort. Give up. Still need to get groceries.

Collect phone, purse, keys and whatever Twilight book I’m currently re-reading (like I’ll have a chance to read during the day – but don’t want to have that chance and no book with me). Slip on cold shoes that live in the garage. Get in car, start it ASAP and turn on seat heater.

Drive to work.




Work some more.

Eat lunch while working.

Take a call from Rob saying he’s heading home for the day and try to hide irritation from potentially listening co-workers when I tell him I don’t know when I’ll be leaving, apologize for there being no food and not to worry about waiting for me to eat.

Sigh and wonder how many days of sitting this long it will take for my butt to flatten out.

Finally am told I can leave. Many others are staying, and I feel guilty for about .1 second. Then I run before the guilt can get any stronger. Surely they wouldn’t tell me to leave if they really needed me. But why are they staying? Run before I can answer that question.

Drive home. Grumble at traffic. It’s late. Why is there traffic?

Home. Sweat pants. Food. Stand around till I’m bored with standing and reluctantly sit again. Can feel the butt spreading.

“Watch TV” with Rob – really, I read more Twilight because nothing he watches holds my interest like Twilight. At least I’m spending time with him, right?

Get ready for bed. Go to said bed. Sleep.

Rinse, wash, repeat.

I told you it was the opposite of thrilling.

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