What I am not over

I’ve been feeling pretty moody and clammed up lately, like I’m following that old lesson of keeping my mouth shut for want of something nice to say. My life is getting split into two halves: What I am so, like, totally for sure over, and what I would like to coat in cornflakes, batter-fry and eat by the plateful.

Wait, what?

Tuesdays have become the best days of my week. Every Tuesday night after class, a small group of us go down the street for drinks, massage talk, and dirty jokes. The bar kicks us out early (if you call 12:30 or 1 in the morning “early”) so their only bartender can get up with her kids in the morning. I get home, creep into the bedroom to bump around in the dark getting ready for bed, slip under the covers and glance at the clock, knowing I’m going to hate waking up in -sigh- four hours.

Wednesdays are my worst days. Wednesday mornings I’m guaranteed sloth-like movement, a traffic jam, not enough caffeine, a boss that seems just a bit more demanding than usual, mood swings, fluorescent lights that need a dimmer switch, a grumbly stomach and a bad hair day. And most of the time I’ve made an appointment or a phone date or both for Wednesday evening (despite knowing better by now), and by the time I collapse into bed that night I want to cry from the sweet, sweet relief that finally, this Wednesday, this Satan-spawned Wednesday, it is over and good god I am too old for this shit.

(I bring it on myself. I do recognize this. And I’m not really complaining. Too much.)

Wednesdays are the days I feel, at every step, that I am over this reality, this life, this tedium (this one, right here). Tuesdays are hectic and long and exciting (and the office even seems tolerable), learning a ton at night and laughing until you think you might throw up. And Wednesdays are a body slam back to reality.

I don’t have much of a point, except that today? The big W? So over it. There are not enough Tuesdays in my life, and far too many Wednesdays.

And the hair needs serious help, people. I'm scaring small children in the elevators.

2 comment:

Anonymous Huzzard said...

I can only hope that I contribute to your Tuesdays rather than your Wednesdays...

7:05 AM  
Blogger Lisa said...

Your hair is scaring small children, huh? heehee.

(That makes me want to bring my child all the way to Dallas and find out for myself. heehee.)

10:57 AM  

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