In a Funk

Up.  Down.  Up.  Down.  Down.  Up.  Down.  I'm just drained.  I'm more tired than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest (that's for you, Scott!).  That's how my last week has been.

I find myself going through the motions at work.  As each day passes, I feel more and more like the Peter Gibbon character in the movie, Office Space:
"I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late, ah, I use the side door - that way [they] can't see me, heh heh - and, uh, after that I just sorta space out for about an hour....I just stare at my desk; but it looks like I'm working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch, too. I'd say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work."

Generally, I can't read that quote without laughing out loud at the ridiculous nature of the movie and smile (though I do not recommended as a family movie).  However, today, this brings me no laughter.  In fact, nothing is making me laugh today.  I don't feel like smiling, eating, talking, walking, or blogging.  I just want to crawl into a corner and come out when this is all over.

Even after "working" a full day, I come home and I'm still tired.  Some days, I think it would be nice if I had a remote control for my life and just held the fast forward button for a couple of years.  Then, reality slaps me in the face and I realize that the emotional scars are not going to end in a couple of years.  This is going to leave a mark on me for the rest of my life.  I just feel sorry for my next kid...they are going to be so spoiled rotten!