Today was just one of those days.
I feel like my life is too small. Today was a very small day. I don't feel like I accomplished much. I had a bunch of cancellations; the new evaluations on queue couldn't reschedule for today. So I had some downtime. I hate downtime.
I feel like things are moving backwards when there is downtime. I wished I were at home cleaning.
When I got home, I learned that some people who are on the periphery of my circle (used to be right smack dab in the middle of the circle, but then they circled away). Anyway, these people are having some big changes in their lives. One possibly good; one pretty bad, but expected. Big changes are heading their way.
And me? I'm Even Steven.
I talked to my friend, R, at whose house I'm staying this weekend: she said "Nothing's going on? But your life always seemed so exciting. Why is nothing going on?"
Because I'm Even Steven. I hate being Even Steven. I feel like I'm moving backwards.
My bohemian hair is tangling ferociously: I want to dye it pink. My gypsy tendencies are rearing their insatiable heads: I want to look for a new job. My wandering feet are getting very, very itchy, like my winter skin. I want to run, run, run and never stop.
I'll have to settle for 13 miles on the canal this Friday.
Because Even Steven needs to finish some stuff before the gypsy can be set free.