Ho humming along.

First let me say that I real-l-l-l-y don’t want to be here today. Here being work. That old I Could Totally Be Doing Something Better Than This Crap feeling is starting to creep in again. Could have something to do with not really having much work, fulfilling or busy, to do right now. Could have something to do with the fact that our clients’ ad budgets are drying up faster than we can blink. I guess I should be worried, but compared to the other agencies in D-town, I’m under the impression that somehow ours is doing relatively well amidst this shitty economy. An impression that is probably totally false, but one I continue to hold on to because I can’t quite bring myself to face the truth. In fact, I’ve had my head in the sand over this economy business for a good six months now. I just can’t go there. I have too much other stuff taking up space in my brain.

Things like, for instance, how I have become a soccer mom. Although little d doesn’t play soccer (yet), all I need is the fucking mini-van to make my little Stepford life complete. I can’t remember the last time I came home buzzed and giddy from a night out. I think the last time was this past October. But I’m not sure that really counts because we went to see a band with my brother and sister-in-law and I really didn’t get to cut loose (that much). My SIL did, but sadly, I was too busy being worried that my MIL was feeding little d to many marshmallows and cookies all night. Instead of going home, I actually spent the night at my parent-in-laws’ house so I could be there when little d woke up. So, yeah, there you go. I’m that mom.

I guess I can’t really say it’s a Stepford life. God knows my house isn’t always (ever) white glove clean. I don’t stay home with 2.5 kids. And I definitely don’t have a meat-and potatoes-dinner on the table every night. I guess maybe I’m referring to the predictability of my life at this point. Maybe I just need a tropical vacation. Okay, maybe not tropical. The world is going to hell in a hand basket. Can’t go on a cruise without mysteriously going missing. Can’t fly without worrying you’ll drop out of the sky. So I guess that pretty much means going on vacation somewhere in the good old U.S. of A. Somewhere we could drive. And that means blowing up to six days in a car just to have four days of relaxation. Four days? Not enough time, my friends. Not enough time at all.

Anyway. I just got some busy work to do. So my deep thoughts will have to be put on the back burner. At least for this afternoon.