And sometimes I just sits.
Like VW said this morning in her blog, it's been a Monday in here, which means all arseholes and elbows, everybody playing catch-up from the weekend
And yes, my worst fear has come true--I've become one of those people who get songs about them--"Everybody's Workin' For The Weekend." I swore up and down that, now that I have an 8-5 M-F job I wouldn't become one of those people who moan and gripe all week, waiting for Friday afternoon and the weekend. I've tried so hard to keep away that mindset, the one that tells me that I can only do things on the weekend, but the problem is that most EVERYTHING I want to do has to have it's own weekend, because, like my Xmas list, everything I need to do is BIG. No more teetiny jobs that can be accomplished in ten minutes. Those have LONG been done, or get done during the evening hours. No, the week for me at work is as regimented as a British Army engineering corps.
And yes, that sucks. *lol* I'm measuring out my life in stages--first thing in the morning, get child on the bus, head to work. Check the lab fridge's temp. Run the hospital report. Enter nurses visits for the previous day. Return whatever orders came back in the mail. Print the certification report. It's all got a defined place to be, and what's sad is that it all works WELL that way. I'm organised enough to manage that much, at least. But of course now my entire day revolves around work with the precision of a Swiss clock.
Which is good in a way. I like that sense of stability.
It's also bad in a way. It's static, unchanging, and has the stink of death around it.
Creepy, ain't it!
It's me, you see. Iffen I let it, my body will happily fall into whatever rut is presented it, rather like a cow will wander miles just to fall into a ravine. And as long as it's comfortable, or can be made that way I'll stay there without even a 'moo,' so I find myself carefully guarding against that sort of thing.
So what's happened? I've fallen, and have no desire to get up. My day revolves along with the might and majesty and moribundity of a caliope, and I'm on for the ride.