Apathetic pathetic-ness...

A few weeks ago, I was walking out of Target and about ran into the door because it didn't automatically open for me.  Turns out I had to actually push the door to walk through it.  (What is this world coming to?)  The other day, the sink wouldn't turn on when I waved my hands under it (for a few too many seconds....we won't talk about it) for obvious reasons once I used the gift of vision I have been blessed with.  While I was at school, I tried to use my car key fob to open my locker door in the grad room.  It didn't work.  I also tried to use the spell, "accio bag" when I was laying in bed one day, because it was across the room and I didn't want to get up to get it (no, I'm really not kidding); much to my dismay, it wouldn't budge.  I forgot I didn't have a wand (silly me).

The sink is no longer visible beneath the pile of dirty dishes.  I'm behind 4 lectures in my class already, and we just started this week.  I can barely keep my eyes open.  And last, but not least, this morning, the truck parked in my driveway didn't get out of my way when I backed out of my garage.  Sigh.  Sorry Travis.
What is wrong with me???  Laziness.  Apathy.  Pathetic-ness.  Entitlement.  Lack of motivation.  Inability to attend to tasks.  Whatever you want to call it, it's all the same...well maybe not the same, but related.  Pretty soon I'll expect someone to wipe my own...nose... 
I'll be the first to admit that occasionally (and, unfortunately more often than not) I get in a funk.  You know what I mean...and if you don't, please leave.  Just...off.  Too tired to exercise, yet needing to exercise to be less tired.  Too lazy to get a bowl out when I eat my ice cream.  As Fat Bastard would say, "I eat because I'm unhappy, and I'm unhappy because I eat.  It's a vicious cycle."  (That's right.  I just quoted a Mike Myer's film.)  Tomorrow is always the day that things will change (everyday).  Sigh.

My promise of "tomorrow" finally came to pass yesterday - I finally decided to begin the process of digging myself out of my piteous state.  Volleyball practice started this week, and April and I decided we were going to do the final conditioning sprints with the girls... 

You must understand something...once we started, it was extremely imperative that we not stop.  Failure was not an option.  I mean, really, right?  Can't have 14 year old girls kicking my trash.  Oh, and I suppose I should lead by example.  Yeah.

...So.  I finally stopped coughing up my lungs last night around 9:00.  Don't you worry, though.  We won.  We rule.  I'm never doing it again.

I also got up this morning and went swimming at 5 a.m...which could be why I bludgeoned the truck to death in my driveway, but that's besides the point:  I feel better when I exercise.  I have more energy.  Doing things for myself doesn't seem like a chore.  I don't feel guilty sitting on the couch watching 3 episodes of Buffy in a row (okay, not AS guilty) because I've already exercised for the day.  I don't mind opening my own doors or turning on the sink (that's a stretch...).  I still wish I was a wizard, so we won't go there.  The laundry gets done.  I'm less cranky.  (I sincerely apologize to all those who have had the unfortunate displeasure of being near me in any capacity for the last few weeks.)  It's an uphill battle initially, but once I get into a routine, things are generally better.   A structured day = a happy, energized Dana = a more likeable Dana. 

...10 days later...

Welp.  I haven't exercised since I wrote the first part of this blog.  Blast.  Don't you worry.  I'm starting tomorrow...

Summa-time...

(This post was actually written last Sunday, the 7th...I hadn't finished it yet, but my mommy made me this evening...)  

Pretty sure I start every post out with some lame comment about how I haven't posted in a while, yada yada yada - let's not do that today.  Ahem.

So where to begin...I don't really have much in mind for this post, except for a bunch of random thoughts...(how is that any different from usual, you ask?)      

I was in Laramie this summer for 8 weeks for school.  I'm getting my master's degree in speech-language pathology and get (have) to go there during the summers to get my supervised clinical experience.  I was also apparently there to watch the first two seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  And take naps.  That's right.  It was a very educational summer.

Is it me, or is this pic ginormous?  (ahhh...I figured it out.  Don't you worry.)

I got back last Sunday, finally, with grandiose plans to paint two bedrooms and two bathrooms in my house in the week that I had off.  My energy burned out that Sunday evening after unpacking my clothes and putting them away (which, I must say, is the first time I've ever admitted to having too many clothes.  Seriously.  It's ridiculous.)  Okay, okay.  I did paint.  But I haven't finished any of the rooms yet.  I like to start multiple things at once and then never finish them.  I'm very good at what I do. (Buffy may or may not have interrupted my progress...)

Speaking of being very good at what I do, I have this habit of being perpetually late everywhere I go.  James really likes it.  Promise.  It doesn't drive him crazy.  However, I must say that I have recently identified the problem.  It's my closet.  I am fairly certain that half my life is spent deciding what to wear.  This also contributes to the not-so-pristine conditions of my bedroom due to the number of times I change and discard rejects on the floor...and, let's not lie, really any horizontal surface not currently covered.  Don't you worry.  I've already picked out what I'm going to wear tomorrow (well, I've narrowed it down to 3 options) for my first day back to work.  What could go wrong?

I feel it appropriate to mention at this point that I just started reading a book...and that I am also very good at not being able to put books down once I start (James really likes that, too)...and that I can't find my alarm clock (it's somewhere in the pile-o-crap still waiting to be put away from school on the lowest horizontal surface in my bedroom)...sigh.  

Anyway, it's good to be home, folks.  It's good to be sleeping in my own bed, taking showers in my shower, cooking food in my kitchen...okay, that last one is a moderate exaggeration, but at least I know that if I wanted to cook, it would be in my kitchen.  The apartment I stayed in was fine (except for the buzzing fridge (that disrupted my Buffy-watching) and bathroom...*shudder), but it wasn't home.  I didn't have as many horizontal surfaces to cover.  I didn't have any walls that I could half-way paint.  Not to mention that while I was there, I had to refrain from reading GOOD books (*this includes any book that is not a text book...also important to note that Buffy is a television show, not a book).  I couldn't annoy James.  I about shed a tear when I laid on my bed...Ahhhh.  Home. Sweet. Home.