Having a Day

Really, that has to be about the most useless bit of modern slang. By virtue of being on this planet as it rotates on its axis, you're having a day. Everyone else is having one too. Even the plants and bugs are having a day. And talk about a lazy bit of slang too. Now we can't even be bothered to describe the day we're having when asked. But I love this phrase still because it gives the drama queen in me a chance to take center stage and inject that extra bit required to make the phrase even remotely understandable. A heavy sigh. A super sarcastic, cheesy, ear-to-ear, painful smile. A 'round the world eye-roll. A perfectly executed, despairing downward droop to the chin and shoulders. It's a phrase I can own in any way I want depending on the mood I'm in and the reaction I want others to have. It's me being a writer in the flesh.

So I'm having a day, she said with a heavy sigh. A very heavy sigh. I need a nice, long nap, but we have a class about breastfeeding tonight, so I'm stuck at work later than usual since the hospital's only five minutes from here and twenty-five minutes from home. It means I can leave early tomorrow, but today is the day I'm having. Work's slowed down a decent amount this week, but they've had bugs up their butts here about at least looking like we're insanely busy, so I've been finding inventive ways to look productive while I sketch out ideas for SoD, plot other ideas, research child care providers, or simply stare into space. But today I wanted to go home, take that nap, and wake up with the energy I needed to dive into the writing that's damn near bursting to get out of me.

I've found myself thinking of crazy, yet consequence-free, ways of getting my hands on the equivalent of one year's salary so I can chuck the DDJ for about the length of time it's going to take Mark to finish up. Needless to say, the list is rather short on anything useful. Except wasting time until we have to go to that class, of course.

Days like this are really rough. I've got the ideas, I've got the determination, I've got the energy (well, I will once I take that nap), but I'm stuck at the DDJ with a limited ability to take advantage of anything. Days like these, it often frustrates me even more to do the few, paltry things I can about my writing without getting my ass fired. Especially because I know this intense drive to write will most likely not stick around until I can make use of it on Saturday. Don't get me wrong: I'll still make Saturday damn productive. But it's not going to be what writing at home for hours could've been like if I'd had the chance to do it today.

Plus, it'd be really nice to go home and put my feet up so I can see about reducing the god-awful swelling. I don't think my ankles have reached the frightening puffiness experienced in Chicago, but they're getting really, really close. Makes walking difficult. Makes sitting even with my feet slightly propped up difficult. And it's just really disgusting to look at. Once I'm at 37 weeks, Andrew and I are going to have nightly pow-wows about starting the whole labor & delivery process a bit earlier than the docs have me down for. September 15 sounds a whole lot better than October 3.