My Ass is Killing Me

There's no other way to say it. I've been sitting on my ass for two weeks now, killing myself from the boredom, depression and overwhelmingness of looking for a new job.

Yes, I could fold the laundry or empty the dishwasher, but that would take precious moments away from me doing absolutely nothing.

I swear, I wish I had the enthusiasm that I had when the Ex moved out and I immediately got on match.com (that ended up being a very wise move, yay). But now I'm afraid I'm slipping into WTF-land.

Speaking of which, a dairy truck just went by. Seriously? People still get dairy delivered? In other WTF news, why are flowers growing on my cilantro? And what does it mean when a cardinal flies in front of you?

I'm a scatterbrain, I know. Maybe it's adult ADD (if I believed in that); some say it runs in our family. I say, "what were we talking about?"

This morning I woke up at 6:30 with Hubby, went downstairs to get my laptop thinking it's a good morning to finally read my brother's book, which I've been promising for the past two weeks. Here's a kid who works in LA (read: spends more time on the road than he should), plays in a band, has recently started playing hockey again (good for you!), has a family and has time to write a friggin book (about his recent 100-pound loss). I have definitely underwhelmed the world, especially since I was supposed to be the writer in the family.

So now it's 11:30 (a lot of time can pass doing nothing), and I'm going to meet Wonderful Hubby for coffee (yes, Starbucks) and then go to Barnes & Noble. It's not that I'm lured by the TV in my living room to stay home; it's just that my ass is killing me from sitting on the couch with my laptop. At least my ass can kill me from sitting in hard chairs at the bookstore where I'm sure I'll fit in another coffee (yes, Starbucks).

But at least I'll read Pete's book. And then maybe I'll look for a job. Sigh.