Nothing, nothing, nothing...that's what I've got lately. Sat on my couch and got nothing done but some dishes, and a pot roast. I am a housewife, a bad one. Remember that show Married with Children and Peggy ate bonbons and they were broke all the time, I feel like that's my life. I know it's not the truth but that's what it feels like. Some weeks are harder than others. Having nothing to do but run the house feels like it should be awesome except it's not. It's boring beyond all recognition. I kill time all day, kill kill kill it. A hundred years ago when I thought about being home all the time I thought I'd be exercising all day and cooking all day and I'd lose a hundred pounds and write the american novel and be awesome in some third as yet unknown way but mostly it's just boring. I have clothes to fold but you know what...it doesn't matter if it gets done today because I have tomorrow...and the next day and the next day. I thrive on deadlines and pressure and getting things done and when there is nothing to get done on any particular timetable I just kind of unravel. This is me unraveling I guess.
I keep thinking of ways that I can give my day structure and turn my life into something beyond killing time. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I have whole weeks where I don't feel the crushing weight of nothing. This week is not one of those weeks and as Merry says this is a no blogging zone. I hate blogging about nothing, it depresses me and I'm sure it depresses you.