Simple Things

Posted: 23 February 2006 in bitter old woman, therapy
Tags: ,

D. and I find we don’t have time for the things we want to do together. This, of course, bothers me, but not nearly as much as the things i’m choosing to do instead bother me. For your reading pleasure, five time-sucking things I confess to doing:

Watching American Idol. I don’t watch all of it, I always fast forward through commercials and the oh-aren’t-you-the-cutest-thing crap, I know it’s terrible, mind-rotting television that doesn’t even make me smile (its capital offense). Why can’t I quit? Because i hate the idea of not knowing what’s going on in pop culture.

Reading magazines. There are so many fantastic books out there waiting to be read and more than one fantastic book in here waiting to be written. Instead, I while away reality tv time reading the umpteenth article on how to whittle your waist or what the latest rock star is saying to the press (and why I should love him for it). Why I can’t quit? Becuase I feel hollow for wasting time watching tv so I multitask by reading short sappy articles and ending up doing neither task well.

Going to bed at 9:30. There are so many hours in the day. But by the time I get done living half of them, I’m exhausted. Most nights, half past nine finds me dead to the world, at the sacrifice of sex (and everything else). I want to justify this by saying I have to wake up terribly early, but in fact, I can’t believe I need 8 1/2 hours of sleep. Why I can’t quit? I love being in that bed. It’s comfortable and warm and D. is there next to me and it’s 9 hours where, mostly, no one expects anything of me.

Ording delivery pizza. Folks, my cooking skills are something to behold. And, I’ve been making pizza since I was 14. My pizza can rival that in most restaurants and beats the pants off of Domino’s (besides, they don’t support women’s rights). And yet, there I am, dialing away, nary a pot or pan disturbed. Why I can’t quit? I can’t defend this one – I swear it’s a carb laden chemical pre-programming my brain to reject homemade food.

Eating lunch at my desk. I can’t get away to go to the bathroom most of the time, let alone to take a coveted 60 minutes to do nothing but eat. The best I can do is close my door to keep the hounds at bay and stuff down my lunch before a half hour has past and I feel like I need to open the door because my boss is waiting/someone has a questions/no one else takes a lunch. Why I can’t quit? I love those stolen moments. It’s the only time during my work day that I can be certain I won’t run into someone I know who wants to catch up, or tell me a story, or ask me a question.

I try to reassure myself that no one is all good, that no one can resist the lure of lazy hours (or stolen ones), but I feel like I’m losing moments that I could be at the gym (sorry American Idol) or meditating (sorry 9:30) or writing (sorry Wired) or having sex with my wife. And yet, I feel like I can’t quit whole hog, because I feel like I’d be disconnected from the world – which is, frankly the big, scary, point.


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