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I'm thinking of redesigning the site again - index page and entry template. I liked the summer theme I used before, and I like the Maine theme I used before that. And yet, I am lazy and will probably continue with this blue theme for another six months.
I am grateful for Marie. Who left me a note saying, "Bye, love you!" on the table this morning because I was in the shower when she left for school. What a sweet kid.
I'm tiiiiired.
TUS knows what WD-40 stands for.
"I'm sittin' in the railway station
Got a ticket for my destination
On a tour of one night stands
My suitcase and guitar in hand
And every stop is neatly planned
For a poet and a one man band"
--Simon and Garfunkel - "Homeward Bound", which I was listening to on my way to work this morning. And actually? I wish I was homeward bound.
2003 - No entry.
2002 - Calvin freaked me out.
2001 - No entry.
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August 10, 2004
Routine, Interrupted
(An aside before I even get started. I was just walking back to my desk after grabbing my lunch from the fridge, and a co-worker passing by in the hall said, "Oh, God, you're wearing all black! How depressing!" Nice, huh? Now back to your regularly scheduled entry, already in progress...)
Calvin has been having to get up an hour early to work a different schedule. He leaves before I wake up (with a departing kiss to me that I partially participate in at the time, and then fully remember when I wake up), and the coffee pot has already turned itself off by the time I lever myself out of bed.
Duuuude. What a disruption to my routine. Usually I wake up at 6:00 when Calvin is out of the shower, and sip a cup of coffee in bed while Calvin drinks his and reads the paper. It's a nice, gradual way to ease myself into the day, and by the time my coffee cup is empty, I feel up to getting up and getting ready. So it's a damned struggle to get my ass out of bed and ready in the morning, and not have a cup of coffee until I get to work and get myself a cup of AcronymCo's nasty-ass brew. That I douse with a half a cup of milk and six packets of sugar. Shudder.
Plus, and groan if you want, but I miss that half-hour of interaction with Calvin in the morning, before he leaves for work. We might chit-chat, with him reading excerpts of interest from the paper. We may not even talk at all, but once in a while he'll reach over and stroke my hair. Or we'll laugh at the cat, who has made an appearance from whatever hiding spot he spent the night in, and is now demanding our attention.
I've been wicked tired lately - so much so that I lapse into my native vernacular just to emphasize the fact. I don't get it - I've been getting about 7 or 8 hours of sleep every night, and work is no more or less massively stressful and busy than it always has been. I've been so beat tired that the walk from AcronymCo's front door to the truck out in the parking lot seems exceptionally long. My eyes are bleary during the five minute drive home and I have to make myself pay attention to traffic. I trudge in the door, and battle briefly with the guilt that comes with deciding not to work out. Which bums me out. I mean, HOW am I supposed to work out when WALKING seems like too much effort? And yet, I have personal goals that involve motivating Calvin to change his nickname for me from "My Little Soft Serve" to "My Little Hardbody." But all I have the gumption for is changing into comfy clothes, and plopping myself on the couch. I stay there until I muster enough energy (and hunger) to make dinner (I've served up too many "Fend For Yourself" nights to my family as of late), then watch TV until bedtime. At which point I drag myself into the bedroom, collapse, and fall asleep almost instantly.
This level of tiredness really only hit over the last week or two. Before that, I remember working out every day, sometimes twice (before and after work). Waking up in the morning was much easier. I wasn't finding myself nodding in my 2:00 meetings. Things just didn't seem to be a mentally and physically taxing struggle. The only thing I can chalk this up to is some natural rhythm of my body to wind down like this on occasion. Perhaps the go-go-go of my life can only be sustained for a certain period of time, and then my body just says, "Hey, you asshole. If you won't slow down, then I'll make you."
(And before any of you ask, because I know one or two people in particular who would, no I'm not pregnant.)
There is something else that is probably influencing this weary feeling. The anxiety attacks I've been having, nearly every day. That stupid knotted feeling in my stomach that gets my jaw clenched and my heart thumping - it doesn't speed up, it just THUMPS. I have no idea where this crap is coming from. I take inventory of my life and can find nothing wrong - we're making progress on our debt, Marie is her usual chipper self, Michael and Lilly and the baby and baby v2.0 are doing well, the family is in good health, folks are happy with me at work, and Calvin and I are getting along famously as usual.
But I wake up in the middle of the night with my mind going a mile a minute. I feel a breathless sense of missing Calvin that makes me pause in the hallways at work and blink, then go to my desk and call him just to hear his voice. I worry morbidly about Calvin and Marie's well-being - last night when Calvin was gone picking Marie up from work (I wanted to go with, but he was taking Marie's truck which only seats two comfortably), I sat at the computer and fretted while surfing TUS until they were home. Then there's my permanent heartache over Grandma, which has been sneaking up to overwhelm me at unexpected moments. This weekend it was while I was dusting, of all things. I just stopped and cried right there in the middle of the living room, holding the Pledge.
I've been toying with the idea of seeing a therapist, except that I don't know what I would talk about. Unless there's some deep hidden crap going on in my subconscious (and really, who doesn't have some of that?), life is going along quite smashingly. Plus, I've never felt like there's anything I'd rather talk to a stranger about, instead of Calvin. I even talk to Calvin about Calvin, so it's not like I've got any suppressed relationship crap that I can't talk to him about.
Mostly, I hate not being able to put a finger on what's going on with my own damn self. I mean, I live inside my own head, you'd think I'd have a bead on what's up.
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