I should be grading/setting up my gradebook/emailing grades for any of the 3 different courses that I'm currently teaching. Oddly, and sadly, enough, my motivation hasn't joined the party yet this semester, which is all of a week old. I don't normally struggle with this fudge-muddled mind, but it's been hitting me hard lately. And I joined a new Bible study this week all about the book of Daniel, but the word around the room is that each daily lesson for the week takes about 45 minutes. And my less than stellar motivation to do anything of substance didn't just giggle self-mockingly at me but downright chortled uproariously. Yeah. Right. I'm doing that right now??? Pish posh. (It also doesn't help that the woman on the video that corresponds with the study, the leader of it, is very SHOUT-y. Not my style. We need a break, and our relationship is only 45 minutes long at this point.)
I'm in the doldrums, friends. Here's the real deal. Our continuing where-are-we-going-to-be-where-do-we-want-to-be-where-should-we-be? saga has no end in site. And I'm downright tired of it, resentful even. Apathetic almost. Remember when I blindsided the owners of a cute as a button Cape Cod just across the street from us and was all like "Yeah, I want your house. Please sell it to me"? Wheels were finally set in motion to the point of realtor intervention today, and I found out that it's actually out of our price range, and pretty convincingly so. We're apparently no good at figuring real estate value in the local market, which has been evident time and time again, and I was really under no grand illusions that this would be any different. But still. How could we be so wrong about it again? It's a little bit bummer-worthy cause this house has such a good vibe for me, like some serious mojo. So I'm sad to see this fish slip away, but it's also one big question mark that has been answered. It might be the catalyst, actually, for the next decision at hand. The safe choice may not be feasible after all, which means that the scary choice may be the only one left. And the absolute biggest bummer of all that's been dragging me down is my unequivocal realization of what a big scaredy chicken of change I am. Some days there isn't enough chocolate...but that's mostly because the littlest sprout in all of her 1-year old cunning has found my stash. And knows what it is. And eats it. She gets it (and me); I love her.