… and I have already resorted to some truly pathetic activities in order to stave off the cabin fever of 24/7 apartment-inhabiting. I really, no joke, need to get a goddamn life. I can prove it by detailing my boring non-activities in list format for you, if you’d like. (Or if you wouldn’t like. I’m not picky.)
Exhibit A: I spent an hour and a half melting various candles to make those rose petal-like wax dealies with my fingertips. This in itself is probably not so bad, but the fact that I spend another 45 minutes working out a “system” for creating “optimal rose petal dealies” is a little disturbing. I did get to walk around and work out the kinks caused by 7-9 hours a day at my desk, though, because I kept having to go get more ice for my Very Cold Water. You see, excruciatingly cold water instantly hardens the petal things, making them more durable and therefore more easy to arrange into an entire waxen desktop rose garden.
Waxen Desktop Rose Garden is totally the name of my fourth book, by the way. Look for it in twenty years at a Barnes & Noble near you!
Exhibit B: I ran a brush through my hair for about ten minutes because in the original detangling process I noticed that the brush felt really good against my scalp. Tactile sensation! How novel! Then I remembered that 100-strokes-per-day thing girls used to do and went on a research mission to find out if it had any actual, proven benefits. None of the results were in favor of the hundred-stroke method, so I finally put the brush down. Then I spent five more minutes trying to figure out how to get that tingly head-massage feeling without, you know, actually touching my hair.
Exhibit C: I read somewhere between 25 and 40 Buffy the Vampire Slayer recaps, even though I have seen all the episodes a billion times over and, in fact, have even read the recaps before. Then, of course, I had to do some desk-chair yoga to stretch my poor atrophied muscles after spending seven hours in one position. I discovered that lolling my head about as if drunk is quite pleasant, attempting to pull my heels to my ribcage while seated is less so, and stretching my arms so high above me that my shoulders crack is both pleasant and kind of painful.
Exhibit D: I began this entry and then spaced out for half an hour, worried that my entries are repetitive and predictable, trying to come up with a Sara Formula. I think it goes something like this: Whine about how bored you are, compile a “list” of entry elements that would work much better as a narrative, make some sort of thinly-veiled reference to how boring and/or embarrassing you are, have no idea how to wrap entry elements up neatly, end on jarringly inconclusive note. What do y’all think? Pretty spot on, huh? (Oh, I forgot part of the formula: Address audience as if it is composed of multitudes when, in fact, it is composed of two people, one of whom is your mother.) I seriously worried this whole idea like a bulldog on a pants leg for thirty minutes, trying to come up a take on it that was not completely depressing. I fail blogging.
Exhibit E: Eh, whatever. I can’t even remember, so just make up something boring and assume I spent too much time doing it.
It’s not like things are this bad every day. I mean, for one, most days Connor is here and I spend a lot more time reading stories and making lunches. (He’s in Amarillo seeing a Little Einsteins show. I really didn’t want to have to admit that. Damn. Hey, Internet, I let my toddler go out of town for the two-year-old equivalent of a concert! Heeeeeee’s spoiled! And, in case you were wondering, he is with responsible adults. I’d never let him drive that far all by himself. I am closing these parentheses now, because I’ve completely forgotten where this paragraph was going.) Um. So. I think we need a new paragraph.
Where was I? Weekend atypical, Connor out of town, stuff boring… oh! Actually, I think that was about it. I am bored, so I do boring things and become more bored, thus disproving the “fight fire with fire” aphorism. Rest assured that I am here to keep you all updated on these things — I think this website so far has shown its true value as a PSA conduit, and I hope you appreciate what I do for you.
This is me, reporting from the trenches and also begging for amusement from the comments section. Please tell me what you do with cabin fever — first one to say “piled-up housework” wins a punch in the ear!