We all have off days. Right?

When this is all said and done, I’ll likely need a mulligan on the entire month of August.

And yesterday just plain sucked the life out of me. Again. What you may call “relaxed,” I consider a waste of space. Even for my boyfriend’s tiny, clammy leather bachelor sofa. Nothing accomplished. No drive. No motivation. I even lost two games of Words With Friends. And only a day after spending eight hours packing up my condo. Which I need to do again. Tomorrow.

I packed five of the last years of my life into small, medium and large sized boxes. Many of which will just go to storage. And I’ll move them again in a couple years, wondering when (or if) I’ll ever have an office to display my Spiderman collection.

But, OMG I cannot wait for my couch. In our main living room.

For as much excitement that I build up over the move, I cannot believe how stressed I am. OK, perhaps I can because the minutest of unknown situations stress me beyond belief, but it has taken on new forms aside from mere panic attacks and insomnia. Where is that damn hot tub time machine? I want to skip ahead three weeks. I want to be back to some normalcy — with AB to come home to every night, with healthy home-cooked dinners… without having to annoy all of you in the process with my whining and emotional breakdowns.

I went into practice last night with a bad attitude too, which just perpetuated into that “why I am doing this?” that I have felt nearly every day this last month with my writing career. As much as I pushed myself, I felt even more defeated. I felt like I can’t do it. And that fucks with me more than anything. I imagine the stress just completely detaches you from all that you love — sucks the heart right out of you. The highlight of my day was pulling into my parking garage, catching two chicks completely entangled in a passionate make-out session.

That’s all it takes — lesbians — to cheer me up.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.