15-05.22.97 (revised) in Book Two: The Fifteenth Year of the Third Millennium of the Common Era

Bit of a proper entry here.
First things first, I suppose… sometimes, though not often, my mind just decides… “Y’know what… I don’t want to be this guy today. Things aren’t the way they should be… so I’m going to think differently.” In this instance, seriously, my inner monologue has decided to have an Australian Accent. So… all of these words come to me first in an Australian Accent then written down.

Moving right along… today has been… as productive as to be expected, I imagine. Got everything on my list done and a bit more. But then, that is the issue, isn’t it? I complete my tasks. I defeat my missions. Ah well. I am trying to think a bit more outside of the issues currently surrounding me. In that respect, I’ve scheduled a bit of a Eat tomorrow with a law school colleague I’ve not seen in a while. His wife has been in surgery this week, so I figured it might be a good thing to get out, have food provided and just… de-stress. The idea of helping others to help yourself.

Clearly, I’ve neglected some of my ProseBox enjoyments as well. I mean… there are some people on this site that I love more than people I know in real-life… and I’m a solid 15 entries behind. That in mind, I’ve made a decision to keep me connected to the Prosebox community that may also use this place for a bit more of a healthy purpose. This isn’t brilliant or new in any way but…
- I need to hold myself accountable to working out. I need to take time every day to write about concentrated working out. Even if it is “Didn’t work out today because of pain” I need to start writing it so I know IF, WHEN, and HOW MUCH.
- I need to hold myself accountable to food and drink cognizance. I need to write down what I’m eating, how much I’m eating, what I’m drinking, how much I’m drinking. Because… my issue isn’t over eating. My issue is sporadic shitty eating. For instance today… I think I’ve had 4 carrots and a sandwich. That’s my intake. I need to write it down to see WHAT, HOW MUCH, and start making more specific plans on taking care of myself.
- Also, of course, just a daily update on jobs. What jobs applied, what jobs interviewed, what jobs offered, what jobs rejected. Fingers crossed but my plan is… May- Apply to the JOBS I want; June- Apply to the LOCATIONS I want; July- Apply to EVERYTHING. We’ll see what happens.

I’ve got 84 entries to catch up on… and I need to cook the Meatloaf Wife asked me to have ready for her when she gets home from work. Hopefully… that will be the entirety of my evening.

EDIT
NOPE… apparently, I was wrong about what time Wife was to return home. I put the Meatloaf in the oven at 8:30 pm, expecting her to be home around at 9:30. She walks in at 8:45 immediately bitching about work and how nobody helps her and her knee hurts and how soon until dinner. I tell her that I thought she would be home later and it wouldn’t be ready until 9:30. BOOM Her work-rage gets focused on me with her yelling because she’s hungry and clearly I have done something wrong by making the recipe she picked out but not early enough for it to be swallowed when she arrives home. I specifically told her “This is like a 1950s Abusive Spouse PSA… ::gruf voice:: The dinner isn’t ready when I’m home, abuse.” So… she re-focuses her rage onto shrieking about work and complaining about knee pain and how nobody at work works as hard as she does and rargh rargh rargh rargh rargh rargh rargh. And… of course… I know that she won’t even ask about the Honey Do List she gave me or how my day was. Because… she doesn’t care if it gets done. She doesn’t care if I did anything or had anything happen to me today. She cares if it doesn’t get done. Because then it is a burden on her. And I retreat to ProseBox. Because this is the only community that cares even a tiny shit about how I feel or what I’ve done today. Meanwhile… it is 9:10 here and Wife hasn’t stopped to take a breath… still just bitching about how much she hates work and hates Wal Mart Customers.

Until I off-hand mention that there is a good chance of finding a County Attorney position in Page County. She derisively asks… what the hell is in Page County? “Clarinda, there is either a juvenile or mental health place there.” God… how small is that city? “Uhm.. looks like just a hair over 5,500.” Now she gets irritated… because that’s too small a community for her. Oh. My. God. Are you fucking kidding me?! You put all this pressure on me to find a job to get us out of here and when there may be a job doing what I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE… you’re going to act like a bitch because it isn’t an ideal location? Guess what… I know this is hard for Miss to understand… but the Adult World doesn’t bend over backwards to give you what you want when you want it. Sometimes, you put up with what you can get because we’re adults…not whiny bratty children demanding our way constantly.

Last updated May 22, 2015