Apr. 28th, 2006

I was getting very little done this morning. I had resolved to Do Something but I had no actual resolve in my soul, and so I sat on the edge of my bed scrolling depressedly through my Writings folder and feeling useless.

Last night I watched Return of the King, Extended Edition, sound on headphones while Z slept. (He crashed at 7 pm and slept for 12 hours. He needed it: he's been working like a dog at work.) I watched it the way I read the books: watched and rewatched the good bits, skipped through all the (oh God [livejournal.com profile] mother2012 is going to defriend me) melodramatic Hobbity bits. It reminded me that the movies really are God-awful: jibbers briefly )And oh Christ could they have slow-mo-noed any more than they did?
But I digress.

So this afternoon I decided not to waste my chance at Not Being In The Club. I had resolved to bike to the post office and the butcher shop, but I have been feeling so blah that for some reason doing that didn't sound as pleasant as I'd thought it would.

So instead I did something else that sounded equally boring and unpleasant: I did all the dishes in the sink, unloaded the dishwasher and re-washed those dishes, which had not gotten clean because the dishwasher's refuse screen was clogged with shit, scrubbed the top of the stove, swept all the floors in the house, scrubbed the toilet and tub, and emptied the garbage cans. The only moderately amusing part was that my too-loose trousers kept falling down and my long sleeves wouldn't stay up, so I got angry and tore both offending items of clothing off and threw them on the floor, the net result being that I cleaned the house wearing a white sports bra, too-small grey underpants, and pale green rubber gloves.

The house is still a disaster area. My folks are visiting in a month, and my room-- well, my room just has piles of clothes I don't feel like putting away, and disarranged piles of books and papers on the desk and dresser. Z's room is actually a disaster area and none of the floor is visible, but you know, it's not my problem. I just wish it wasn't the room with the entrance to the sunporch, or I'd be happy to just block it off and leave him alone.

I think I'm going to take the full-time, more hours, more money schedule in the shift bids. Fuck it. I get nothing done when I'm on ostensible "part-time" so I may as well work as many hours as possible for as much money as possible. Maybe I can save up enough money to do something cool.

Like, you know, take a month off and write a novel. I bet I could do it on a tight schedule. I should take my computer, research materials, and a little suitcase of clothes, and go stay somewhere, and see what I can get done.



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