Another Ten Months

Hubby is back at work today. Another ten months of the same. And it looks boring to me today. So much stretched out in front of me. And I don’t know what I am going to do. Okay, I do, but it all seems so discouraging. Maybe I am just bored. I feel the pressure to be…something. I have projects to do, but I don’t feel like doing them. I guess it is the crossroads feeling again. (Still.)

Everything is so repetitive. Grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, breathing, sleeping, coming up against walls. Having to repeat myself over and over and over…

Later…

You know what I hate? I hate 50 dollar bills. I don’t hate money, don’t get me wrong. But I hate those big ol’ red bills. I dread spending them. I don’t hate buying things, I hate handing over the fifty. I feel like I am a pretender. A big bucks girl pretender. But what I really dread? When they scan the bill under their counterfeit bill scanner. I feel like such a criminal.

I also hate sorting recycling. I used to pay ten bucks a month for someone to sort it and take it away each week. Now, I no longer have that service. Now, I have an overflowing recycle bin and at least one grumpy mood that lasts up to half an hour at least once a month that consists of a lot of cursing under my breath.

A Family of Actors

Nobody in our family is an actor, yet I am sure that we could all earn ourselves an Oscar (or at least an encore) today. Put eleven strong personalities in a four bedroom cottage with two more people to arrive tomorrow. Ay Karumba!

But I don’t want to act, I am real. And since when do I feel responsible for telling people to act nice? What the hell?