It’s a Fine Line Between A Rut and A Routine

One of the things I really hate about Bloggers is when they don’t update.

Yup.  Two months since I’ve updated.

Whatever.

Nothing is going right.  Nothing is going particularly wrong, either.  I am just not in love with my life right now.

When my husband declined to go on an Anniversary getaway, I booked a flight to Nugget-town, AZ.  After spending a wonderful four days with the kids and that precious bundle of lovin’, I thought I’d come home refreshed and renewed.  Instead, I came home sick.  Which is how I spent out 24th anniversary.  In bed. Sleeping off a fever.

Whatever it was, I must have picked it up on the plane because Big Boy’s family is fine.  I, on the other hand, am still feeling like crap and coughing up the occasional lung.   Thankfully, between Memorial Day and working from home, I didn’t miss any work.  (I didn’t go to the Dr. because I didn’t want to hear her ask me why I hadn’t done my blood draw yet.)

Speaking of Dr.s, upon my return I was greeted with $1,000 in medical bills from the stupid biopsy of the not-cancer. Luckily, we had enough to cover them and I didn’t have to borrow more money from Boy.  That made me feel like crap.

Speaking of Boy, he is the source of much tension and stress in our house lately.  When he graduated High School, he wanted to study animation.  We made him a deal that he could do whatever he wanted as long as he got an Associates in General Studies/Liberal Arts first.  That way he’d have the basics if he changes his mind. He could fill up all of his electives with art classes, too.

So he did that.  And graduated and did the whole cap and gown thing.  He is debt-free and has a tidy little nest egg.  (I did none of these things.  I dropped out of a handful of colleges and wracked up a mountain of debt.)

And now he wants to go to the College of Creative Studies and get the degree he wanted in the first place.  He wants to live in the dorm in Detroit and have all that culture at his fingertips.

Which is great.  I don’t blame him.  But it’s hella expensive. And they don’t have requirements for English, Math, Science, etc. so none of those credits will transfer.  He’ll have to do at least three more years of school (probably 4) and work at the same time, because I doubt he’ll get any type of financial aid other than loans.  We can’t help him because we suck at money and have been bleeding $$ for the last two years anyway.

So when he graduates he will do so with a mountain of debt, no savings, and a degree that’s only good in California, Florida, Chicago or New York.  (They say they have a 92% placement rate but I know of three people who’ve graduated such schools and are not working in their field.)

Husband is not happy.  He yells at me about it.  I tell him to talk to Boy.  Boy seems to have thought all of this through.  Still wants to go.  And I don’t blame him.  I wish I had gone somewhere with a dorm away from my parents and all their drama.  Plus there is a possibility he could meet like-minded people and make friends.  Even female friends.

Then there’s my job.  Which I don’t really enjoy all that much anymore.  (I think it’s working as a whole I don’t like, but whatever.)

And my efforts to make my life more exciting have fallen back to all of my bad habits.  Since my illness, all I want to do is sleep.

In my head, I feel like I need more time for creativity.  But I know that I have the time.  I’m just not using it for that.

For my birthday, I would love to go away for the weekend.  All alone.  And see if all I need is a time-out from my life.

Shit.  Why doesn’t this get any easier.  Why aren’t there answers.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s