Monday, September 30, 2013


As I mentioned somewhere down the page there, Baby started a new job about three weeks ago. It's great in so many ways -- they treat her like a real person who is going to be there unlike her other job (which she still works at one day a week), where her boss only recently stopped saying, "oh, you're here today?" EVERY SINGLE TIME she came in to work her scheduled shifts, despite the fact that she's been there for over three years. It's great also because she's making more money, and because we're actually on the same campus and I get to see her at work every day, if even for just a few minutes. Really, pretty much everything about it is great. The only problem is that we're ludicrously tired, all the time.

We can't really explain it, but somehow, for the last three weeks, Baby working a new job has made us walking dead. We have to plan everything in ways we've never had to before -- I actually make a full week's worth of lunches for myself on Sunday, and we (mostly Baby) make 2-3 days of lunches for the kids. That's not even quite enough as it is, though, because once we run out of those we don't just make a couple days' more. No, we aim solely for survival during the work week and do the least we possibly can to make sure that we and our kids don't die or develop socially embarrassing diseases. The days aren't flying by, either -- every moment of every day is acutely felt. Last week I somehow mustered up the strength to be extremely productive at work for a couple days, so on Monday and Tuesday I accomplished more than I have in weeks. Unfortunately it turns out I have only a limited amount of energy, because those two days apparently sapped all my resources for the rest of the week, leading all the way up to today, where I'm sitting at my desk, looking at a lengthy to-do list and trying to figure out which items can be postponed with the smallest number of people who could potentially fire me getting angry. (Just kidding, I work for the government. I can't be fired.)

Regardless, I'm looking forward to whatever happening that needs to in order for us to feel like humans again, instead of overworked draft horses.

(Speaking of which, one of the many rad things about our new neighborhood is that we have neighbors with a HORSE. An old white one named MERLIN. How awesome is that? He's very old and just stands around in their back yard, but he is MAJESTIC AS SHIT and classes up the whole neighborhood.)

I think routine is very important to good living, and this recent change is forcing us into a routine more than ever -- so ultimately this is all very good. But right now, I feel like I want to roll the grass up on the ground and find a secret bed down there and go to sleep until everything is normal. (Is that just me?) Or I want to move to the country and live in an Airstream with a big workshop behind it and never have to think about commuting or scheduling kids' pickups or dinner groups again and just sit on the porch (it has a sort of deck porch) and watch it rain and drink some coffee, iced tea, or beer (depending on what time of day we're talking about). Or I want to do that but in a cabin in the mountains of New Mexico. Or live in a hotel in a small town. I don't know.

Anyway, here's me complaining about how sweepy I am because poor me and Baby have to work at our fulfilling jobs that pay us decently for work we enjoy. BOO HOO.