Busy nothings

 To quote Mansfield Park: "Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings." That's pretty much the long and the short of it. I've been pretty complacent about it all only because I have the promise of a very eventful summer stretched out ahead of me, beginning with a little trip to Chicago on Thursday. I'm ecstatic since Chicago feels like a second home to me. That is actually ironic since I'm always a damn tourist there. It doesn't feel ironic though in reality, since I'm usually only ever wholly comfortable when I'm uprooted. Familiarity begets restlessness which begets unhappiness which begets regret. My psyche is like a book of the Old Testament. 

Over the past week I've been a bit down about my work situations. Not that there is anything terribly wrong (comparatively speaking) with each workplace, only that I work too much and I spend my free time worrying about all of things that have to get done because soon I'll have to be at work again. I suppose this is adulthood but  my particular situation has revealed itself to be a fully formed Hobson's Choice. And so I ended last week taking a minor step that could be my way out. I don't want to say too much about it but I mention it because I want to remember that afternoon that I saw a light at the end of the tunnel, however distant and faint. I want to come back here when this present becomes a past and think about feeling just like a raccoon after finding a shiny nickel in the garbage. Lest you think I'm melodramatic, I should mention that I just had to walk away from the computer to laugh out loud. At least I make myself laugh!

I'll blog a bit from Chicago, at least I plan on it. I suspect the sheer joy of not spending 13 hours in one windowless room after another will prompt me to see things differently (that, and the rose colored lenses of the land of speakeasies and cocktails) and that I'll have something to impart that won't make me cringe when I read it back six months from now. That would be a first.