Lost Monday
You know what I feel like doing right now?
Nothing.
You know what I feel like doing tomorrow?
Nothing.
I hate it when I get like this � I guess we all do, though. It�s that little voice in the back of your head screaming:
�I don�t want to work anymore! I want to crawl under my desk and sleep. I don�t care what happens. Surely the federal government will take care of me at some point. Isn�t that what usually goes down? Don�t they do that?�
And then those thoughts will give birth to the following thoughts �
�You know � women didn�t use to work like this. Oh no. They stayed home with their babies. Sure it seems old-fashioned and unhip but is it, really? I mean � if I were to just declare my work independence and say � FUCK PROGRESS! FUCK WOMEN�S LIB!! I want to be at home and cook and clean and darn socks and wear aprons and have orgasms over the latest kitchen gadgets! � would that be so bad?�
AGH!
I mean, sure I just crawled out of the Primordial Secretarial Bog into the glamorous world of Public Relations.
HA!
Not that I�m complaining or anything . . .
Anyway � yesterday was such a relaxing day. It would have been near-perfect if I didn�t have the GIANT LUMP OF GUILT blocking my air passage for the majority of the day and making me think This is ONE LESS DAY you will get to spend with your beautiful little baby, you selfish bitch!
Other than that, I slept well � had about 2 three hour naps.
In between, I managed to see 12 children and 5 puppies being born. I swear to you, if �Birth of a Nation� had been on, I probably would have tuned in just because it had the word �birth� in the title.
I think I�m in that phase that was mentioned in some pregnancy book I read about wanting to be alone and quiet, pondering the meaning of life. Basically, I just want to be in my own womb � floating silently.
Wonder if my gyno could write me a prescription for that?