It’s here, another Monday morning. The beginning of another work week. Wish I could feel happy about returning, but it’s just not there.
Though the healing from last week has begun, the return to my every day routine seems wrong. Maybe wrong is not the word I am looking for. It seems inconsequential. I had to look that up before I used it. Life is so short and I feel lucky to be here. I want to celebrate, see things, travel, enjoy life with my best friend/husband. Yet my bus is parked in my driveway and in about forty-five minutes will be fired up to go about its meaningless day. Make that now, because I am so flippin reliable I just called my boss to see if I should run to the office and pick up stray paychecks and hand them out this morning. Why must I worry about everyone else? If their paychecks were so important why didn’t they drive to pick them up Friday like the rest of us?
I can’t answer either question and I can’t change who I am, so it seems.
I could spend the day pondering what exciting things I should do with the rest of my life. Making myself completely miserable knowing the reality is I have my mother to take care of, a husband who is not working outside the house, and a job that almost pays our bills. This is about exciting as it is going to get.
It is what it is and I better learn to enjoy what life I have or it too will pass me by. It could be much worse.