Cranky

I am cranky today. Work made me cranky. Yoga made me cranky. My ridiculously expensive, ridiculously uncomfortable underwear made me cranky.

Maybe I have PMS. Maybe I just need to get some. Or maybe this is just an expected side effect of having too much free time.

Two whole evenings worth.

My therapist and I are working on this - my inability to be bored.

I mean, there is plenty to do. Vacuuming the mounding dust bunnies, washing some more comfortable underwear - or at least buying some that aren't being held together with staples. (There might have been a small laundromat malfunction. Don't ask.)

But I don't do these things. In my downtime I only sit and stare and ponder my life's existence. Today I contemplate how I am not cut out for my florescent lit lot in life. I debate calling the drunk boy(s) from my birthday. I pout over the misdirection of my last 48 hours.

See! I am no good at this, at sitting still. I yearn for progress, for my next great adventure.

And I call my mother to pull me down from the ledge.

But she is not home. She is not bored. She is out, most likely dancing on table tops with her girl friends from 'book club'. (Later, she will kill me for writing that but for now it amuses me, so I don't hit delete.)

Just yesterday, it seems I was bitching about being SOOO busy.

Oh yeah - it was yesterday. But alas there is always some yard, somewhere, that is a little more green.