Sorry. It was the only way I could think to describe my otherwise indescribable lack of literary loquacity of late. Since I finished the blur of interviews, travel, and work that was the last two months, I just can’t think of anything to write about and I can’t seem to make myself write even when I do.
So, I’ve been doing everything I can possibly think of to do BUT write. Witness:
I took up yoga again. And swimming.
I cleaned my house. No, I mean CLEANED my house. As in, three car loads of cra…er…donations to the local Goodwill, at least 15 bags of garbage to the dump, and I did all of my laundry (for the first time in at least two years :/). I even vacuumed under my treadmill (also, for the first time in at least two years, double :/).
I cross-stitched an entire quilt.
I read the Tiger’s Wife (amazing FYI), and I’m half-way through Eragon.
I gave the dog a bath.
I watched every episode of Frasier and Ugly Betty Netflix instant had to offer, and literally, all of the current first-run movies available in the tri-state area.
I started using moisturizer and gave myself a mani-pedi. I also gave the cat a mani-pedi.
I finally finished all of my interview thank you’s and I’ve stopped emailing the department chair about my rank list just short of becoming (seriously) annoying. I hope.
I have re-instituted regular contact with my long-lost loved ones and family, calling and updating them just enough to prove that I really do still care, but not enough to be annoying. I hope.
After finishing my stint in the ER and taking a couple weeks off “for the Holidays” (aka my final interviews and as many shifts as I could cram in at work), I’m doing an elective in the anatomy lab and putting together an unnecessarily massive and complicated teaching project. That no one but I will probably ever learn from.
I have planned several vacations. That I have no idea how to pay for, but they still sound amazing.
While cleaning, sewing, exercising, compiling, emailing, calling, reading, and watching I have obsessed and fretted endlessly about my rank list and the Big Life Changes that will surely ensue.
With all the fretting I suppose I chose to hide, and put off writing. Because I like to write when I’m happy. And despite the brief moments of satisfaction I get when I can actually find stuff (for the first time in two years), at the guarantee of clean underwear and socks for the foreseeable future, and a dog that doesn’t smell like walking wheel of aged cheese for once, I’m mostly scared sh*tless about the amount of inevitable upheaval I’m facing.
But, I’m out of stuff to clean. Seriously, I can’t take out any more trash for three days and the people at the Goodwill have started locking the doors and turning off the lights when they see my car approaching. So, I’m back to blogging.
Bear with me. At least until March.