- Domestic
- Physical
- Professional
- Creative
I do pretty well with the first three. I like my morning visits to the gym and I can't stand for my house to be untidy and, well, they make me do stuff at work. But the fourth one is taxing my limited energy sources. I would really like to finish a work day around 6:00 or 7:00, have a glass of wine and read a book and then read a little more in the tub and then watch some TV (there's just so much) and then go to bed.
God I love bed. Don't you? Isn't it just the best place ever?
Anyway, I'm going to blather on here in an attempt to be a little creative today. This counts! I am creating a blog post!
Sometimes I think about Ghostbusters. As one does. But not about the stuff you're probably thinking of. Do you remember the scene where Sigourney Weaver comes into her apartment and she's wearing aerobics kit and she's carrying a single bag of groceries and it's a dark out and it's in New York City?
That scene was so aspirational for me! I imagined being a cool big city person and I'd go to aerobics and then come home and get ready to go out and I was pretty sure that there wasn't actually an ancient Sumerian god named Juul who would thwart whatever glamorous evening plans I have.
(Look, I know the god's name wasn't Juul. I know what a Juul is. I live with a teenager, for god's sake I'm also not sure that Grool? Quool? Zool? It was Zool, right? Zull? was Sumarian. But if I got any of that right, I'm pretty impressed since I haven't seen Ghostbusters since the 80s)
Now I am like every trite, cliched middle-aged dumbass internet mommy blogger type person because the idea of going out after a work day? When there's a hot bath and a good book and all that TV and my bed just right there?
Madness.
But a particularly disappointing madness.
I want to want to finish work and then go to aerobics (I kinda miss aerobics) and then bring a single bag of groceries (eggs, milk and a six pack of coke, if I recall correctly) and then put on some cool dress and then go out for the evening and look like Sigourney Weaver and not get assaulted and then turned into a dog by an ancient Babylonian (Sumerian was right, wasn't it) god.
But I don't want to do any of that. I want thick socks, a good book, a hot bath and to catch up on HBO's Barry.
I wonder if I'd be as fascinating as Sigourney Weaver if I'd settled in big city New York rather than big city Chicago?
I dunno. I'm tired.
Last thought: I never wanted to go out with Venkman. I was always definitely a Spengler girl. How cute was young Harold Ramis?
(I felt like this blog was missing a gif)
