Normal? Who says I'm normal?
Even though it would appear life has returned to normal after my few days of travel, it has not. My house is an absolute disaster--suitcases lying open and disheveled with dirty clothes on my floor, an empty refridgerator, an inbox of unread e-mails, and a pile of mail on my counter that hasn't been sorted--my work schedule horrendous (a deadline on Friday, over 57 e-mails in waiting, and a conference I am supposed to attend tomorrow), and well, an attitude that isn't quite cheery and happy.
I hate walking back into life head-on and having deadlines and superficial nonsense thrown at me in every direction. I'm an ease-into-it-type of girl. And well, most of the other factions of my life aren't in that orientation. So, what does a girl of my inclination do? I wish I could give some clever and incredible piece of blog wit--but instead, I just clench my teeth, bow my head, and move forward--flinching with ever blow of ridiculousness sent my way.
Typically, I am pretty outspoken--sometimes to a fault--spouting on about how things are difficult, changes need to be made, and how I am upset or cranky. But this time, I just don't have the energy or the time. And for whatever reason have taken the roll-over-in-submission attitude that will either kill me or make me weary of ever doing it again.
So here I sit. Sulking. And working. Now I just have to figure out how I am going to tackle the piles of dirty laundry, dishes in the sink, and a looming deadline that has me a little stressed out. Oh, and fiction writing progress? Nadda. For at least a week. I'll have to do something about that. Maybe this weekend. Maybe.
I hate walking back into life head-on and having deadlines and superficial nonsense thrown at me in every direction. I'm an ease-into-it-type of girl. And well, most of the other factions of my life aren't in that orientation. So, what does a girl of my inclination do? I wish I could give some clever and incredible piece of blog wit--but instead, I just clench my teeth, bow my head, and move forward--flinching with ever blow of ridiculousness sent my way.
Typically, I am pretty outspoken--sometimes to a fault--spouting on about how things are difficult, changes need to be made, and how I am upset or cranky. But this time, I just don't have the energy or the time. And for whatever reason have taken the roll-over-in-submission attitude that will either kill me or make me weary of ever doing it again.
So here I sit. Sulking. And working. Now I just have to figure out how I am going to tackle the piles of dirty laundry, dishes in the sink, and a looming deadline that has me a little stressed out. Oh, and fiction writing progress? Nadda. For at least a week. I'll have to do something about that. Maybe this weekend. Maybe.
