“It must be exhausting to be you.” -Emily Gilmore
It is, Miss Emily, it is.
But it’s rarely boring. To be honest,even if when it’s boring, it’s not boring, because then I start singing songs to my coffee cups and the cat. (The cat is not a big fan of my songs, not even when I tailor the songs to suit her needs. She really hates it when I do the songs in a stylized fashion. She is equally horrified by the Ethel Merman AND Al Jolson. There is no accounting for taste.)
After several weeks of slugging around with little motivation, (The job thing, the house thing, you know all of the things.) I think I’m out of the funk (We want the funk! Give us the funk! It’s hard to turn it off.) I actually feel productive.
It is possible I may be semi-gainfully employed soon, I am working on show that I’m enjoying (It’s nice to only be responsible for one thing. and the director is even crazier than I am.) and I’m finally getting back into the writing thing. (I made a spreadsheet and submitted a proposal.)
Tomorrow I am having an adventure that I’m hoping to get something cool out of. It is a profile of life as a newly single mid forties female.
I have a gynecologist appointment (yearly lube and oil change)
I have a mammogram (for pressing matters)
I will be attending a class at the Velvet Box, an upscale adult product store. (There will be cocktails and gift bags. )
It’s going to be interesting.