The Summer of My Discontent

Why is it that I’m bored to tears with my old routine, dreadfully bored, but I can’t bring myself to change it? Even though it’s killing me spiritually and physically? Why do I cling to the known, when the known is sooooo not working for me?

I’m trying to find something to look forward to that isn’t food, and failing miserably, especially since my apartment is half packed. I have to pack the other half this weekend, and yeah I’m about as enthusiastic as you would expect.

I’m upset with myself for moving. Changing my address by half a mile isn’t going to change my life. Buying new flat-pack furniture isn’t going to make me happier.

What I really want to do is call up a friend and eat fajitas and drink two or three margaritas while talking about nothing important. I want to bitch about the move, and hear someone else bitch about whatever is wrong in their life at the moment. I want to be sarcastic and liberal, and tell stories and make raunchy jokes, and eat too much salsa, and order another damn margarita because my mouth is on fire. And maybe go check out the new merchandise at TJ Maxx, or get a cupcake from Cake Junkie. Maybe see a freaking movie. I haven’t seen a movie in forever.

But all my friends are in other places, so I’m going to watch the last-ever episode of The Good Wife, and pack, and maybe drink a bottle of wine all by myself, and pack, and cry about how lonely I am.

 

 

 

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