I have so many things I could do. The kitchen floor really needs a broom dragged across it, not to mention the mopping, the need for which is approaching critical.
I am sleepy beyond belief, especially for 4:00 in the afternoon. I've got a headache that may or may not become real and annoying, though just now it's teasing about the edges of my skull.
We've all had lunch, and supper is waiting to be prepared. I'm doing an absolutely easy pile of quesadillas and some black bean soup. But even that is escaping my desire to motivate.
I really just feel like ass. I've got Fugazi blasting into my face, and I'd turn it louder were it not for the kids needing me to hear them. I'm in that 16 years old world weary mood where I'm sure I can solve all my issues with overly loud rock music, the great cleanser.
I've felt like this for weeks, just not wanting to bother, slipping to a point where I'm not sure if I care. I get the kids fed, keep the library books out of danger. I've read more books in the past month than in the previous few. There's plenty of stuff to do. The yard, the craptastically full garage, the bits of vacuuming that I didn't get to, the aforementioned kitchen and meals.
I really think that all my problem is a coupling of too late nights and not leaving the house nearly often enough. It's not like the late nights are boisterous with going out and partying. A lot of the issue revolves around Momma's schedule. Too many late nights seems to back up to early mornings, and it also leaves many days where we don't get up to have the car, or I don't want to get the boys back up late to get Momma from work. So another day passes where we don't really do anything except spend one more day needing to get out and wishing we had another car.
Okay, I have to finish by qualifying the previous remark about caring. I can't help but read it indicating that I'm not living up to certain parental obligations. The kids get their share of caring and aren't a part of the problem. My own issues often affect how I relate to them, and this in turn adds to the feelings of . . .ennui?
And we do have another car. Sadly, Tennessee style, it's sitting, nose up in the air, most of the engine in the garage, the rest of it sitting waiting at a machine shop. Maybe it will one day find the road passing 'neath it again, sad sack of crap though it is.