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2002-01-30 - 11:42 a.m.
Ok, so I am not going to waste
this entry whining about being sick. I won't bore you with lengthy
descriptions of the amount and consistency of the phlegm that
has taken up residency in my chest. Or the weird feverlike deal
that made me sweat buckets all morning and forget what month
it was.
Nope, I will spare you.
What really sucks is being sick
1) while out of work, and 2) while JB is gone. At least if you
are working, you can call in sick, thus giving yourself a nice
free day sort of feeling and get all luxurious in front of the
TV. And if your husband is around, you can act all fragile and
wan and maybe ask for 'just a small thing of Ben & Jerry's'
because your throat hurts.
Oops, I'm supposed to be sparing
you.
JB goes on business trips to
China every couple months or so; he's there right now until next
Wednesday. While I was gainfully employed, this was not such
a bad thing - his journeys always evoke a heart-grows-fonder
thing where we appreciate each other a lot more and all that,
and I kind of enjoyed having some time to myself. But now that
I have ridiculous amounts of time on my hands, these trips really
shit the bed. It's like the Long Dark Tea-time of the Soul while
he's gone.
I am certain there are other
people who are looking for work who are very disciplined about
their day. Every job-hunting article I've read preaches the virtues
of getting up at a normal working hour (yeah right), wearing
office attire (whatfuckinever), and spending up to 8 hours a
day jobsearching (I'm sorry, but if there was 8 hours worth of
jobs listed somewhere on a daily basis, I probably wouldn't be
having such a hard time FINDING one).
Me, though, I'm more the undisciplined
type. If I were, say, a page from a coloring book, all of my
colors would be outside the lines.
If there's structure to be had
in my day, it's JB coming home from work. Previous to that, there
may be job hunting, diary writing, web surfing, movie watching,
coffee drinking, phone talking. After he gets home there is usually
a mix of: dinner eating, news watching, gym going, grocery shopping,
and TV gazing.
While he's gone, everything
just sort of blends together and the day can only be defined
in terms of Times Of Day It Is OK To Have An Amstel Light, and
Times Of Day That It Would Be Totally Alcoholic To Do So.
Is it terrible to think that
sometimes a day is something that must be endured, rather than
attacked with vim and vigor?
I think when you have a job,
unless you are wonderfully lucky, by the end of your day you
are overjoyed to get home because damn, at least you're not at
work anymore. So technically I should be bursting with
happiness all day long�but of course, it doesn't work out
that way. I spend my day feeling bad that I'm not AT work.
Now isn't that fucked up?
:::
Anywhoo. I watched Hedwig
and The Angry Inch last night. Mehhh, it was ok. On the Netflix
descriptor it says:
"�Somewhere in between
the crab cakes and the cramped motel rooms, between the anguish
and the acid-wash, she pursues her dreams and discovers the origin
of love."
Who writes that kind of crap?
I mean, seriously.
Oh, and it's not exactly "she".
If you care.
:::
All right, I'm gonna go pound
some DayQuil now. Mmmm...glutinous orange syrup.
go back :::
forward
0
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
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