Christmas is a few days away, New Years after that. You’ve got a lot to deal with: family, friends, presents, eating too much, losing your marbles…all the normal end of the year stuff. More than anything, the holidays are a much needed break from life (with crazy relatives and family drama thrown in just so you don't get bored).
I need this break. Bad. Because, apparently, the long year has caught up with me and I’m now running on brain fumes.
Yesterday was one of Those Days. You know the ones. You trip while running up the stairs to the el, you forget to get off the bus, you miss your train completely…and that’s all before you even get to work!*
For those not “in the know,” I work part time as an editorial assistant for a science journal. *Snore* Anyway, the first hint that my brain had vacated the premises (à la Elvis) came at 9:15 am when I realized I hadn’t clocked in on my computer. Even though I had been at work for an hour, and even though I do this Every Day without fail. Not a big deal. My boss has to click a few things, pray to the online timesheet gods, turn around three times, and my hours will be fixed. Great. I forgot about it, chalked it up to lack of sleep.
Then the end of the day rolls around. I’m tired. I’m ready to get the heck out of this cubicle! So I clock off,** bundle up (scarf, gloves, giant coat, 180s), and walk out. Once I get outside I call my cousin—she asked me to babysit her two girls and I wanted to let her know that I was going to come straight from work. This is how our conversation went:
Me: Hey!
The Cuz: Hey, what are you doing?
Me: Leaving work!!
The Cuz: Uh, did you get off early today?
Me: *oblivious* Nope, I always get off at 3:30.
The Cuz: It’s 2:30.
Me: …
Oops.
I could have sworn my clock said 3:30 when I left. But no. I left work early. An hour early. (This would have been fine, had it been intentional. But, of course, it wasn’t.)
Again, I say: oops.
I was only halfway to the train station. So I turned around, walked back into my office building, strolled past the security guard (yes, he gave me a weird look***), sulked into my boss’ office in my winter gear to tell her what I had done (She laughed. A lot.), stripped off all my layers, turned on my computer, and worked for another hour.
Apparently, I really need this holiday break! My brain has stopped working. It is like mush, sloshing around in my skull, useless, with a bad aftertaste and awkward texture to boot.
At first, I thought (as you might be too) that all this had nothing to do with writing. That this post was just a way for me to share my crazy with the world. But no, I have found a connection!
This past weekend (and by weekend, I mean Thursday through Sunday, as those are my days off****) I didn’t get much writing done. None, really. Between the making of a million chocolate peanut butter balls, holiday parties, and complete and utter laziness, I would say I got down maybe a thousand words. Maybe. And that’s a big decrease in productivity, friends. Yikes. I had actually planned on writing about “Making time for writing” before my brain melted, because it seems I need a reminder about how to keep myself motivated.
So, I’ve decided to blame all my mind-matter mush on not writing. Had I channeled my creative energy, flexed my brain, done something other than drink wine and watch Food Network over the weekend, I would not have been a worthless drone this week at work. And I would have been that much closer to finishing this draft.
Writing for me = higher brain function.
Lesson learned.
Note: Surprisingly, the Cuz was still willing to leave her babies with Crazy Ashy for a few hours. She either has a higher trust in my brainpower than I do...or she just really wanted out of the house.
*No, these things didn’t all happen to me yesterday. But I, um, may have experience with some of them…alright, all of them. (Let’s just say that commuting to work is…exciting?)
** I wasn’t going to forget this time! "Take that timesheet gods!" I say. (There may have also been a fist pump slash Molly Shannon Superstar pose involved.)
*** Though not half as weird as when I walked out again an hour later.
**** I know you’re jealous. You should be. Of course, take a look at my bank account and all that jealousy will disappear. It’s like magic.
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