Angry molasses

Life doesn't feel crazt but I'm kept from blogging because life feels a little like it's moving through molasses.

I've never had a schedule like this before. It's a regular 40 hour a week that requires me to wake up at 6:00 in the morning, just like my previous adult life in the suburbs. However, unlike that life, I get home around 5:00 or so. This means that I have a HUGE amount of time in the evening. (Just how different this schedule is from my island life is too obvious to go into.) I'm work tired so need some time zoning out before I catch my second wind, usually eat some dinner while I do that and then . . . well . . . I should be blogging or going to dinner with friends or quilting or making Christmas presents or emailing friends or . . . something. But the molasses feeling remains. I do get a little studying for the GRE done but it's the little crap, like reviewing supplementary and complementary angles. I don't get down and practice the writing sections like I should. I want to submit a "MacGyver" entry for ReadyMade magazine but I keep just plain forgetting because the pictures I need are at my parents' house. Sometimes I go work out but all of the ladies that work there but one piss me off on a consistent basis by correcting me on stupid stuff that doesn't really need to be corrected. That wouldn't be so bad but not one of them has bothered to even learn my name. They just see me as a lump of jiggly meat that only needs to be checked in on every once in awhile, like after we take our blood pressure when they shout, "How are you ladies doing? Everyone in their heartrate zone?" and then wait expectantly as if we should respond individually to their general cattle call. And it's freaking cold. About 20 degrees all the time. What happened to the 30's and 40's? It's like Chicago just skipped from the 50's straight to ten degrees below freezing and stayed there like a bad date who slips by your guard and weasels his way into your apartment and then just sits there trying to get you to make conversation or a move but you're too polite to just kick him out when he doesn't get the hints.

So, I guess I'm a little irritable. I can't believe that I wish I had more to do so I would get more done.