Seasonal Affective Disorder is very real. Or perhaps I should call it My Life is in Disarray disorder. I’m not sure which. It’s been a brutal (for us) winter here in the south, where it’s normally mild. The romanticism of living in a one-hundred year old house comes crashing to a halt when the power bill arrives and it’s half the rent. As a result, the cranky gas furnace has been turned to low, and the bill is still half the rent. So, it’s dark, I’m cold–no, freezing, even under blankets, and working harder and longer hours only to run into a brick wall with my current job.
Fat hurts when it crashes into a brick wall at any speed–I’m sadly out of shape. I haven’t been able to wear the skinny shirts since I was 20. When your students look at you and ask…”What happened? You got so chubby since last year when I was in your class” you know there is a problem. I have grey hair. Yes, me, at 27–grey hair in bits and pieces on my head. Even my hair guy noticed them. But, at least I’m not thinning or balding.
More time is like carrot on the string to Bugs Bunny–always out of reach to me. I’m always working, or trying to decompress from work. I don’t have a lot of close friends–maybe one or two, and while I have many acquaintances, I spend more weekends here being slothful than I do out making the social relationships that I need as I push 30. I’ve realized that I made the wrong friendships in college, since I never really talk to those folks–they live a totally different lifestyle than I do–perhaps I should have gone down a different fork in the road and things up to this point might have been different.
I need to find a new house. I need more social interaction. I need to find a gym. I need to find a new job. I need some hair dye. And, I need more money. All of these things take time, which I do not have. What am I supposed to do? These things consume my waking thoughts as of late. Suggestions?
Because a colleague did some sewing for me on a cheap Banana Republic sweater vest (what’s up with the easily ripped stuff, BR?), I offered to make something scrumptious for her–cinnamon rolls. A monster mound of dough is creeping its way out of my dutch oven to take over the world, but I will punch it down and make rolls tomorrow for freezing.