The Incorrigible Night Owl

August 16, 2004

Gnawing the bars of my cage

In the past three days I have completed no less than five niggling tasks that have been sitting there, maledicting me, for a long period of time -- some of them in excess of a year. The nexus of this flurry of activity can be attributed to the impending arrival of my parents for their annual visit.

What I want to know is WHY? Why, in the name of Regis Philbin's boxer shorts, do I only work well....hell, work, period...under pressure? Why is it so difficult for me to commit to setting aside, say, an hour or two per day in which I would devote myself to household tasks? And what, exactly, have I been doing for the last 15 months that has prevented me from hanging three-quarters of our framed pictures?


I am seriously hating the whole weight watching thing right now. The extent of my interest is hovering somewhere around "the Fab Five visits the Mustang Ranch" level. I have dug down deep, looking for motivation, but I seem to be fresh out. Perhaps I shouldn't have ordered that extra shipment of the self-loathing/oral fixation combo pack. I am unhappy where I am and yet I can't seem to get myself to do anything about it. Come on in and wallow, everyone; the mire's fine. God, I need a doughnut.


It has begun to dawn on me as of late that I, the incurable gadabout that I am? I don't do real well when confined to the home for any length of time. If I am not on the move a little bit of the Crazy starts to creep in. I start doing weird shit like driving downtown at 11 p.m. to drop off the recycling just for the sake of going somewhere. In five months I have only been on two trips and maybe two other excursions outside these city limits and that? Just ain't gonna cut it for me. Last year was actually even quieter than this year but that was out of necessity. The logistics of trying to pull anything off with a brand-new (and very needy) baby were enough to scare anyone into staying home. But this year he is infinitely more transportable -- and yet I am still homebound, this time because of finances. All I'm saying is I'm glad I have a Mommy Trip coming up next week because we are dangerously close to Robert coming home from work to find me sitting in the middle of the street in my underwear, clutching my carry-on bag and singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." And, believe me, the neighbors do NOT want to see that.