Mile High Pixie and the Temple of Ennui

There's a good reason I haven't been posting a lot lately. Well, a couple of good reasons. For one thing, there hasn't been a lot going on project-wise. My previously-promised project, MCRC (Mendwell Center for the Reality Challenged), is still in a holding pattern. And since there are only a few things left to do on Wheatlands, I'm having to help another project manager in the office with a few small projects she has going on. A CT replacement, a radiology suite, a procedure suite, and a storage-room-turned-nuclear-medicine-treatment-room...little stuff. It's all doable, but it gets annoying because a) it takes a lot of energy to switch between three or four projects in an eight-hour period, and b) they're not really my projects, per se. At any second, my new project could start and leave this poor gal high and dry, or worse, I'd have to start like gangbusters on my new project while still having to finish up these little projects.

I guess I can't really complain. Guy's project at his new office has yet to start in earnest, so he's super-bored. His office assured him that it would start soon, just hang tight, please don't quit, go to these code classes in the meantime, please don't quit. I might be bored with these little projects, but at least I'm not bored bored.

And frankly, I've earned my boring pedestrian life, and I say that with no humor (for once) or regret. Most of my life has been spent in one whirlwind or another of drama, anguish, fear and anxiety. I've gotten to where I like the fact that as soon as Guy and I hit the door at 5:30 in the evening, we're in our lounge-around clothes/pajamas. Friends call at 7pm to ask would we like to go out for a drink and dinner? and we can say with almost a grin thanks, but we just finished dinner and we're already in our PJs, but maybe this weekend? After months of 60-hour weeks working on Wheatlands plus studying for and taking (and passing!) the ARE, it's great to come home after an eight-hour day and cook dinner while bantering about with Guy on whatever topic: Barry Bonds, the head of NASA talking crap about global warming, how should we clean up the back balcony where we store everything, and so on.

So, I suppose instead of trying to conquer the Temple of Ennui, perhaps I should hang out and stay a few days (or weeks) in one of its suites. Maybe lounge around by the pool, raid the minibar, whatever. As my mom once told me, "You're bored? Good. Be bored. It's good for you."