Perhaps it's the slightly depressing shade of overcast gray this morning/afternoon or the cooler weather or the fact that it's Tuesday or some perfect cocktail of the lack of clothing purchases over the past three weeks and hormones, but readers, I am feeling quite listless.
And now my coffee has gone cold and I officially hate everything.
But seriously. I loathe funks like this one because it feels like such a waste of drama-free existence. I don't have mounds of grading to do, no disgruntled students complaining about their B that should have really been a C (but I'm kind), no mounds of paperwork to sort through, I don't even have to wait years for the new season of Real Housewives of Orange County to start. Nothing really bad is currently happening to me and nothing really out of the ordinary good is happening to me either. (Ugh, did that sound as white people problemish as I think it did?) I should be counting my blessings Bing Crosby style and yet here I am, complaining on my blog about feeling ever so slightly less than marvelous.
Some days though, I just wish that my life was more than it is--that I was more than I am--that I had accomplished more, that I was cleverer and more ambitious, that I was more organized and more financially responsible, that my job was more glamorous, that I was generally more glamorous instead of introverted and wry and pessimistic with coffee stains on my clothes, dry skin, and weird hair (and before you say anything, yes, it has been weirder than usual).
I'm not really sure why I am posting about this (although I am sure that none of you are screwing up your eyes and questioning whether you've clicked on the right link when you come here to discover I am yet again blogging about something negative.) I think that some of it has to do with catharsis, some of it candor, and some of it commiseration. I know that whenever I am feeling even the least bit surly, I find these types of admissions to be insanely comforting. Probably because I am often delusional enough to believe that everyone else around me is perpetually cheery and on top of things and that I'm the only poor dope who avoids the dentist until her fillings fall out and whose boyfriend has had to make a rule about her having beverages in the bedroom because she spills anything and everything everywhere and who always always buys basil, forgets about, and then has to throw it all out.
So hopefully me candling the cake for this little pity party for myself has left you feeling comforted or better about your lives because YOU always remember to use up all your basil. Glad I could help.