Butter Spread Over Too Much Bread

Another quality post brought to you by Steve!

You know it's pretty bad when you get back from a three-day weekend cursing yourself for not working a couple more hours over the holiday.

I know: none of you give a shit.  Nobody wants to hear me complain about my scheduling problems.  You're all dealing with kids trapped in the about-to-be-foreclosed-on house, people you know dying from a modern-day Black Death, the fight for the right to exist without a knee on your neck, and, oh yeah, the cancer of pseudofascism infecting all of our institutions meant to deal with those other problems.  

But for my first blogpost in what feels like forever that's not about some current, existential crisis, all I can think of is how hard it is for me to even write it.

Maybe it's just hitting middle age and realizing I can't do what I did in college anymore.  My God, man.  Twenty years ago I used to wake up at five for physical training, go to three classes a day, work eight hours at my on-campus job, walk home, do three hours of homework, write a few thousand words for pleasure, then drink until three in the morning, and somehow still stay caught up on my favorite TV and read for pleasure.

Now I can barely get up in time to commute to the couch, and then I don't even want to write a fucking blogpost at the end of the day.

I mean, I guess they say you become an adult and then all of the bills start crushing your soul.  At least, that's what my father used to tell me.  I dunno.  I had to pay all the bills in college, too.  Hence my army scholarship and work study jobs.

Maybe nothing's changed and I've just been doing it for so long that it's worn me down to a nub.  Maybe it's the particulars of 2020 and not being able to blow off steam in any meaningful way.  I mean, this past weekend I drove to a parking lot big enough to socially distance in so I could watch a fireworks display a few miles away.  It was the closest to a normal outing I've had in a while, and damn if it wasn't melancholy.

I'm increasingly feeling that we won't be going back.  There won't be Fourth of July celebrations like we had in our childhood, just this weird hybrid thing of the future where you microwave a hot dog at home and everybody just shoots off fireworks every night for some reason anyway.  

Anyway, what was this supposed to be about?  Oh, right.  Time management.  This has been your blogpost for this Monday.  I hope it helped you manage your time better.  Catch you next month, cats and kittens.