Solstice

It’s the longest day of the year. But to me, yesterday felt like the longest day of the year. I’ve been feeling a lot of frustration lately in regards to my job, and I wrote an entire post yesterday where I ranted and raved and bitched and moaned, you know, the things I do best. I didn’t post it because I didn’t want to go into too much detail.

Here’s my only ray of hope in an otherwise dull, dreary atmosphere where boredom numbs every single atom that makes up my being: It’s only until November. Then I will be doing the job that nature evidently wants me to do, be a mom. Hopefully after that things will open up a little bit more for me, career wise and I'll only have to return to work at my current job for a short while.

I should have known I wanted to be a stay at home mom when I grew up. And here I had all these ideas in my head about a career and higher education. Who needs it? Masters schmasters. My mom always told me that I needed to find myself a rich man… but instead I married a poor asphalt worker. Crap. Stupid love.

I tried really hard to like what I’m doing… but the thing is, I’m not doing much of anything. The amount of work that I have in a single day equals about 10 minutes of actual work, so that leaves me with 7 hours and 50 minutes to find something else to do. And the hour of lunch that I almost never take… what’s the point?

Maybe its hormones, but I’m longing for some summer freedom. Ironic, since it’s the first day of summer. I’ve seen so many kids just out cruising with their friends, and it reminds me of when I was a teenager, and I’d go to the pool or the park, and just do whatever. I had nothing to worry about except curfew and birth control. At least I don’t have either one of those to worry about anymore.

It’s not that I want to be a kid again, no… I’ve got the road ahead of me pretty much paved (my husband is running the roller). I just want to feel that freedom for more than 30 minutes a day, while I’m in my car with the music up and the windows down, smelling the summer air. What the hell would I possibly do with a day like that? I’d probably end up sitting on my porch in the sun with a giant icy lemonade, a spray bottle full of cool water to mist myself, and listen to music.

It’s those tiny little moments that make me the happiest. Sitting here in this uncomfortable chair, staring a computer screen, with my feet up on a dusty box that I had to scrounge from the warehouse to keep the swelling in my ankles down is not fun. Nope.


And now, a piece of news you can use. Well, not really, but it’s interesting. Ladies, don’t bother faking it. I’ve never quite understood the point in faking it anyway. Seems pointless. It’s like training a dog, you have to let it know when it’s bad or else it will just keep pooping on the rug.

Don’t look at me like that, I’m pregnant.