Le monde du vieux bandit

I’m so tired (work here is never ever done and can never be, as weeds grow and houses don’t paint themselves) that frankly, I don’t want to work ever again. Not house-work! Money-bringing work. That could be a problem. I’m so tired I could nap for 12 hours in between nights. So exhausted I can’t make it past lunch without feeling a veil of sleep overcome me (I fight it). So tired I don’t remember why I chose translation anyway (why oh why couldn’t I choose something that involves sipping margaritas by the pool?). And y’know what? My two-year-old elbow injury hasn’t acted up once about weeding, gardening, painting, pulling, hammering, pushing, carrying, anything. But it does awake whenever I sit at a keyboard for over an hour. It’s work. My chosen field is ruining my health! (And my voice-recognition software is not meant to be used coupled with exhaustion…) Right now I know it’s extreme fatigue typing, but… damn. It’s a gorgeous day out there and I’d rather be sleep in a hammock with my dog underneath than cooped up in my (gorgeous) office. But forget that–before I’m allowed any hammock time (never mind that I’d burn in that sun) there are about a million weeds to eradicate and three or four flower beds that need my urgent help. That’s without counting the two sides of the house I haven’t touched yet. Yeah I know I’m putting a lot on my shoulders, but that’s not the point. The point is, I chose to reach so many goals and dreams at once that my work has become mundane, redundant, boring… excrutiating, actually. (Yes it has much to do with the projects I’m currently working on, long things that I seem unable to see the end of…) Anyway, this is my rant and I’ll botch if I want to. Even with my mouth full. Even when I know I just need tons of sleep and I don’t actually have the right to complain about a thing. There.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 22nd, 2009 at 3:28 pm and is filed under moi, * in english. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.