Last night, as I was supposed to be trying to get to sleep, I was instead curled up in bed doing math in the dark.
Specifically, depressing math of the sort in which I add up the amount of time each day I spend at the office (9 hours), commuting to and from work (1 hour), getting ready for work (1 hour), sleeping (in a world with good planning, 8 hours), and doing things that need to be done but that I don't actually enjoy (variable), and subtracting that from the amount of time in a day. The result was very little time for me to do the things that I enjoy or would consider part of that nebulous thing called "real life".
Obviously, not the best activity for a Sunday night. I think that it will surprise no one that this led to a very low motivation level for Joanna on this Monday. That would explain why I'm sitting here and updating my journal instead of doing the actual worky things that surround me.
I definitely need a vacation in which I leave town, if only for a few days. Or else I need a boyfriend who becomes a super-wealthy rockstar overnight and can support me in the manner to which I would like to become accustomed. Two equally-likely possibilities, right?
