Work, School, and All That Stuff

Tomorrow Chris goes back to school. Well, really last week he was "back to school" but it was just the two principals palling around, shooting the bull, and leaving at 3:00 on the dot. (Not that things did not get done, but I do know what time he left each day and he got to wear cargo shorts.) Tomorrow all the teachers are back- and Wednesday all the children will return. He says if it weren't for the kids working in education would be fine. (.... Just kidding, you know my husband loves his job and I would discuss that more here, but again, this blog is about me, not him....)

Tomorrow I have an interview that I am pretty excited about about. Another one of those friend of a friend..."Yeah, forward my resume" sort or things. I am meeting with a lady from HR and the gentleman whose name hangs over the door. I'll brush off my black skirt suit (sans pantyhose) and head out the door at 1:00 with my flip-flops on and 3" heels in tow.

I submitted an essay today and keep writing. I've enjoyed physically writing on a yellow tablet with an actual pen these past few days- taking in the last moments of warmth. But when I do this, write out words on paper, I think how I will probably never re-write it on the computer and it will never be made into anything more. No essay or story or quirky recollection of a time long ago. Oh well.

So, I made a list of why I want to go back to work. Not the real reasons like: I get bored and antsy in a 500 square foot apartment, or I refuse to sit another long, miserable winter in this box in the sky, or that I feel as if I need to justify my existence with something.... something other than a child.

So, if we had money- money besides the amount we barely squeak by on each month- then I would be able to:

1. Take that Yoga class

2. Get $100 haircuts and bikini waxes

3. Buy healthier foods for Chris and me (maybe cook a little more instead of relying on pancake mixes and frozen pizzas)

4. Possibly get cable TV(this, again, is something Chris sacrificed)

5. Get a massage from time to time

6. Spend money on coffee or yogurt or a $10 eyeshadow without feeling guilty

7. Wine

8. Use shower gel and not Ivory bar soap that I buy 4/$1.00

9. Musicals and museums and live music events

10. Keep the motorcycle, maybe...

Not that it's all about the money, but I am realizing that I am inhibited from doing alot. Plus, when there are weddings and birthdays and babies I realize that we have no wiggle room. And honestly, I want to be able to enjoy the city we live in. This summer I relied heavily on my free entertainment: running in the park, working out downstairs in the weight-room and soaking up rays on the sun-deck. Pretty lame, I admit.

Too Much Pressure

Last night I woke up with a headache. Or, my headache woke me up. About midnight. I felt like Mr. Potato-head, with that drawer in the back. I thought my head was just going to unhinge right there on my pillow, dumping out all the gray matter that makes up my brain, my life. Unlike the extra ears and eyes and noses for Mr. Potato-head, I need these parts in tact at all times; they are not extras. The pressure on my top vertebrae was going to pop my spine open like a zipper. The way the metal teeth on my jeans zipper readily release after too much pasta and wine. All that is stuffed inside just wants out, wants to breathe, is bursting out to touch the air. That was how much pressure I felt.

I got up and washed down three generic ibuprofen with some water. I unwrapped a Ricola to sooth my scratchy throat. Chris sat silently at the computer desk, his face illuminated by the glaring white electricity.

After I laid back down I continued to be restless. My arms getting tangled up with my torso- this is a new problem I have; one arm is continuously asleep. I slept with the cough drop in my mouth. I don't care if this is dangerous, I have done this since I was young. I hate cough-drops, but my throat was tender from too much changing-of-the-season. When I woke up, hours later, I spit it out. Disgusting? Whatever, it's what I do.

My shoulders remained tense and continuously crept up toward my earlobes, drawn by some magnetic force up, up, up. Like those really powerful magnets we got for Christmas one year, that my mom only let us play with from time to time. We had to keep them away from the TV, our Fisher Price tape recorder and our Swatch watches. The force so strong I don't even realize it. I'm rigid and stuck without any flexibility whatsoever. Unknowingly, never relaxing- shoulders to earlobes- even lying in bed, trying to sleep.

Suddenly, I'm having a problem sleeping with my limbs and knees. I'm drooling and I don't drool. My right arm doesn't wake up until four or five hours after I do. I dig my nails into my palms and my calf muscles tense up and refuse to lay flat on their designated spots, allowing my toes to point directly at the ceiling. Even my normal fetal position half-moon-curl on my left side is no longer comfy. Chris and I switched sides of the bed a couple nights ago. I read this is good for your back (or did my chiropractor suggest it once?), anyway, it hasn't helped yet.

I Did It Again.

There are a few things Chris repeatedly "gets on to me" about. Not that he get's mad at me, well, here they are:

1. Putting dishes in the dishwasher without "pre-washing." My mom didn't prewash. We relied 100% on that dishwasher to get all the spaghetti, hard cheese and mayonnaise off our dishes. Chris is a pre-washer.

2. Picking my cuticles. It's a really bad habit I have. I pick until I bleed.

3. Not using a coaster. Are you kidding me? Our coffee table is from IKEA and we put our feet on it, who cares about coasters. I am trying to abide by this rule more and more.

4. Moving , sorting, touching, or organizing his piles. Although I must say, I think I am doing a pretty good job at this one! I just leave his junk mail, scribbled phone numbers, and school papers all disarray. As long as they don't make it onto the kitchen table, or the computer desk....

5. Getting headaches. Not that this is my fault, he just would like me to monitor when/ where I get headaches and if it continues to be a problem- go to a doctor. Chris doesn't get headaches. I don't think he even knows what a headaches is. So, honestly, I try not to mention it when I have a headache. He gets all concerned and flustered. Poor guy...

6. Not taking my week of placebo birth-control pills each month. (Ah, who needs em?)

7. (And this my be the worst...) Cutting towards myself when using our knives. I am currently wearing two bandages on two different fingers; one from cutting bread on Sunday, and one from cutting a pear today.

8. Stretching. Ever. Before or after running, exercising or weightlifting. Which is sort of funny since he doesn't do ANY of the afore mentioned activities. But, I guess he wants to make sure I'm taking care of myself. As a matter of fact, here is Chris partaking in his after dinner snack. Yes, this is after a veggie burger and cheese covered tator-tots. A cake and margarita- straight from the blender.