Thursday, July 07, 2005

The agony of mindless drudgery

I really don't know how my mom did it. Maybe staying at home is better if you have kids to keep you entertained, but I am about ready to start plucking arm hair for fun.

I have texts to read, papers to analyze and a house to clean...and yet, I'm stagnating in this quiet, cable-less bungalow where the only other occupant is my disgruntled tortoise. If I had money to go out, I'd spend my days at coffeehouses, or wander over to the Guild 45th to catch the latest indie film. Instead, I wake up every damned day to another 16 hours of slow suffocation. I hear Ndugu climbing the walls of his pen in futile efforts to escape, and I think, "Me, too, little, too."

I don't care if I need downtime before grad school starts. I hate it. HATE.

I think there's something wrong with me.

At least I get to start my Spanish lessons next week...maybe that will help. Then, I can wander from room to room in the afternoons muttering dark curses in two languages instead of one. It's sick, but I can't wait for classes to begin again.

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