Dear J-
Monday again — a long confluence of events, from the long weekend coming to an end, to having to drive the vanpool, the long stream of Monday issues held over and awaiting a personal touch, and I didn’t get anything done today. Running in place while sitting down, we don’t seem to progress past the crisis of the moment; it’s been a full year since we rolled out this new system, and though it’s become familiar, we still struggle with mundane tasks.
It all feels the same; work is what you make of it, I guess, but each day is starting to feel interchangeable. We’re here at the end of the day, struggles done and house cooling, slowly winding down into night and planning the things I won’t have time to get around to tomorrow. I’m just so tired at this point; our stars keep tracing the same paths overhead, and we keep rolling the same stone uphill. I remind myself it’s been three years — but the last one’s been one long scramble after another; the first two varying degrees of panic over learning the nuances.
Tuesday and sleep will undoubtedly bring relief and re-belief; I wonder if I’m afraid of change, or if cautious is the new chic in this economic climate. What if I had to start over again? What if — who might — where can — why does — when we’re left wondering what’s on the other side of the fence, is it time to explore that other field? Perhaps it’s only Monday; perhaps it’s the lack of sleep and other incentives; perhaps it’s the repetition ad infinitum echoing as far as I can see.
Mike
