So, it's Sunday morning. I didn't sleep all that well - too hot, or I slept too much yesterday, or whatever. But here I am at 8:30 on a Sunday morning.
The problem is, although I'm awake, I'm not motivated to do a damn thing. I have two hours before I would need to leave to go to Zumba at the Y, which I definitely should do and totally don't want to do.
I did unload and reload the dishwasher. Go, me. Seriously, I fucking hate unloading the dishwasher. Hate. Hate with the death of a thousand fiery suns.
But now, I'm in the den, which is a mess, and I can't seem to work up the fortitude to clean it.
I have a pile of laundry in the dining room, calling out to me to fold it...meh.
There's a package of thank you notes sitting next to me that I need to be writing, addressing and getting in the mail, stat. That's not happening, either.
I know that if I were to un-ass myself, and get started on something, I'd feel better.
But I don't want to.
Far easier to surf the web for the khaki pants I might want to order come payday. Or re-check Facebook to see if anything new and interesting has been posted since I last checked 45 seconds ago. Or sit here and contemplate taking a shower, brushing my teeth, getting dressed and hitting Kroger.
Heh. Not happening.
Clearly, I'm dealing with a little depression. So I know that getting dressed and going to Zumba is a good move. Writing the thank you notes and mailing them is a must, and for the love of all that is holy, yes; yes I'll get some food in the house.
I also need to locate the source of what smells like a tomcat who marked something in the house.
I hate playing "Find The Smell".
Onward and upward, yo.
ae
The problem is, although I'm awake, I'm not motivated to do a damn thing. I have two hours before I would need to leave to go to Zumba at the Y, which I definitely should do and totally don't want to do.
I did unload and reload the dishwasher. Go, me. Seriously, I fucking hate unloading the dishwasher. Hate. Hate with the death of a thousand fiery suns.
 |
| Fuck you. |
But now, I'm in the den, which is a mess, and I can't seem to work up the fortitude to clean it.
I have a pile of laundry in the dining room, calling out to me to fold it...meh.
There's a package of thank you notes sitting next to me that I need to be writing, addressing and getting in the mail, stat. That's not happening, either.
I know that if I were to un-ass myself, and get started on something, I'd feel better.
But I don't want to.
Far easier to surf the web for the khaki pants I might want to order come payday. Or re-check Facebook to see if anything new and interesting has been posted since I last checked 45 seconds ago. Or sit here and contemplate taking a shower, brushing my teeth, getting dressed and hitting Kroger.
Heh. Not happening.
Clearly, I'm dealing with a little depression. So I know that getting dressed and going to Zumba is a good move. Writing the thank you notes and mailing them is a must, and for the love of all that is holy, yes; yes I'll get some food in the house.
I also need to locate the source of what smells like a tomcat who marked something in the house.
I hate playing "Find The Smell".
Onward and upward, yo.
ae
Comments