Howdy, pardners.
Yesterday was my day off, and I have finally determined what the hell my problem is, at least as far as my days off are concerned. I need structure. I need someone to tell me to sit in one place for x hours, and then somehow everything else falls into place. So on the days I work (which is most days, surprisingly enough), I sit at my desk and get my my work done in a timely fashion, and still manage to find many moments during the day to chat with the boy and distract my coworkers and read and write email, sometimes both at the very same time. And then I leave work, and my day continues to be fairly orderly: I go to the gym or I go to a class or I walk, I have dinner of some kind or I go out, or I stay home and talk to the boy some more, because somehow it’s never enough. Basically, there’s a balance to those days. There’s an understanding that one can only do so much. On my days off, however, which include weekends, I undergo a painful and jarring transformation into some kind of ambitious monster, much like the Incredible Hulk, only with orangish hair, and slightly more aggressive. I make myself a giant to-do-or-else list, and I go. And somehow it becomes completely acceptable to do things like go to the gym and walk and go to martial arts (which was nothing short of boot camp, and made me seriously regret lifting weights earlier in the day). And run errands and go to meetings and do some work and chat with the boy every chance I get. Something is out of whack here. So yesterday morning post breakfast and coffee, I headed to US Bank to cash my check from work. Since I’m consulting and therefore paid monthly, this check is of a size that my credit union will not just deposit it and trust me with that amount of cash. I understand that. Rather than wait the almost three weeks it takes for the check to clear, I take it to the bank it was drawn on. Now, my hatred of US Bank is legendary, and I am so bitter about being forced into this situation, that before I even set foot in the building, I’m already riled up and ready to throw punches. By the time the teller asks, “You’re aware of the $10 check-cashing fee, right?”, I’m spurting blood from my eyes. I growl “yes” in an inhuman voice as I restrain myself from removing heads from bodies until after my cash has been delivered safely to my hands. Hulk smash! And I don’t even care about the $10 at all. Give me ten minutes in Target and I can blow 10 times that much. It’s nothing but the principle. The reason US Bank has this exploitative policy is to convince me to open an account with them. So now I’m thinking about it. I can open an account with the minimum $100 deposit, withdraw the money right away, then cash checks without the fee in the future. Is it worse for me to do business with them that way, than it is for me to give them $10 a month? I don’t like this decision one bit, because either way, the fuckers win. After the cash had been transported to the very nice customer-friendly credit union, I came home and dug up a bunch of stuff to sell at this garage sale, packed it all in my car, went to a business meeting, shopped, went to the gym, then drove to my mom’s to unload the car. Because this weekend is my superspecial fundraising garage sale! All the proceeds are going towards my 3day. Did I mention my 3day? Hey! Look over <--THERE! You can click to donate. I need to raise $2,000 by September. And don't go thinking this is the last time you'll hear about it, since I'm about to commence Fundraising Drive #2 very soon. The pestering doesn't stop until the money is raised, dude. So then! I came home and I mowed the lawn for the first time this year, although it probably should’ve been done 2 weeks ago. I’ve been busy. I actually love lawnmowing, because anything that can be turned into a competitive athletic event is cool with me. I was out in back whipping that crappy mower around at the end of a row, and I realized in super-slow-motion that the mower had stopped moving, but I hadn’t, and I was heading towards the ground. I staggered inside, ate some fruit, and waited for my blood sugar to go back up again. While I waited, I went to find a vase in the guest room for the lilacs I intended to cut. Hypoglycemia + glass objects = Hulk smash again! It was a mess. Then I finished mowing, and look! Flowers.
Jenni