There’s something about Sunday that always has me pause and give thanks. I reflect on my healthy mind and body, thoughtful parents, a flourishing marriage, a support system from here to halfway around the world, shelter, sustenance and my four-legged furries that nap all day long.
I know there’s a reason I feel this way every Sunday; and I think you know, too.
I’ve changed the name of the Friday series because the first moniker was lame and caused me a great deal of annoyance when others inflected improperly when reading the title.
So anyway…
Top ten ways that you know you are suffering from job burnout:
3. You’re so tired; you now answer the phone, “Hell.”
2. You wake up to discover that your bed is on fire, but go back to sleep because you just don’t care.
1. You think about how relaxing it would be if you were in jail right now.
My brain turned into mush around 2 p.m. because I had the bright idea this morning to clean out my Inbox at work.
So yes, it was one of those days.
Determined, I managed to organize and purge three-fourths of the way through the mailbox (translation: about 900 e-mails) before my eyes rolled to the back of my head and my tongue stuck out the side of my mouth.
People were staring at me. No joke.
…
OK, joke.
As a reward for my diligence, I allowed myself to consume a King-size Reese’s, two white-chocolate-and-macadamia-nut cookies and a pumpkin-spice latte. All of this even though I haven’t hit the fitness center in three weeks.
I am chock-full of accomplishments today. And I think I’ll stop writing now.
It’s Wednesday, usually the day Ben and I eat out. Usually the day I can come home and sit on my heinie with nary a thought wasted on what to cook for dinner.
But because we blew through our monthly “Dining Out” budget around, oh, Oct. 10, there will be no Wednesday-night-heinie-on-the-couch time … YET AGAIN. November, please hurry.
The good news is that I’ve been researching recipes for tofu-veggie stirfry all day today and found one that should win me points from my husband. The bad news is that my ego is completely shot — do you know how many Julie & Julia types exist in the world? For these women, cooking is a hobby, whereas I have to overcome an entire day’s worth of hubbub just to make a tuna melt.
Although it is an awesome tuna melt.
Check out my favorite sites: Pham Fatale, The Nourishing Gourmet, and Cannelle et Vanille (translation: Cinnamon and Vanilla). It’s OK if you don’t cook the food, the images on these blogs are enough to satiate you. … unless, well, you’re hungry.
First, there’s my tendency to sleep until about 7:30 a.m. every work day, even though my alarm goes off at 6:50.
Then, after dressing, there’s the check and re-check of the dark nooks within the master closet to make sure none of the cats snuck in to dance on the clothes.
Then there’s the parting kiss that my husband never forgets to give.
There’s also makeup application: a spot of creme blush and a shade of lipstick — which ends up being the same one out of 15.
Then there’s the rush to get in my car by 8:05, except that it’s always closer to 8:15.
Then I see the security guard dozed off again in the tower in the employee parking lot and think, “Life is unfair.”
There’s, of course, the man at work who dumps canned tuna on a whole-wheat tortilla and eats it for lunch Every. Single. Day.
There’s the blogging (lately, anyway).
There’s definitely the slowing of time once the clock strikes 3 p.m. on a weekday.
And then there’s Gizmo, sweet, cantankerous Gizmo, who waits and meows on the other side of the door as I unlock it upon my arrival home.
From about 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Friday, these are the markers of my life. These occurences orient me in a space-time sort of way; they provide context and, as a result, spur decisions. Yet, interestingly enough, those daily decisions are never the same.
