2 hours of doom

Since I started the writing yesterday, I’ve been keeping my eye out for things that get my pulse elevated and make me question stuff and things. Well, last night, I had an A-HA moment about a particular period of time that occurs most evenings, and I’m curious what the masses do with that same window of opportunity or, as I lovingly refer to it, my two hours of doom.

So, I posted yesterday about my routine that is boring, but pleasant all at the same time. And after I wrote about it, I felt pretty peppy all day just thinking that I was contented with my “little” life. Drove home with windows down singing to Ne-Yo (http://youtu.be/crrOl0egI00), went over to Nordstrom and bought myself a lovely pair of Honeymoon sandals for FIJI (countdown: 7 days!!!!), and then came home ready to paint, practice, an finish off the night with a little scrabble.

And suddenly, it was 8PM…and I knew the time before I even checked my watch because I started getting anxious, a bit nervous, edgy.

8 PM is when the clock chimes, marking the beginning of my personal two hours of doom where suddenly all purpose and intent gets sucked away into irrational categories of BAD CL classification. What more should I have done this day? Why didn’t I also go grocery shopping? I’m so tired, but I should stay awake and do something purposeful…like read the New Yorker or write my travel book. STOP WATCHING TV, these shows are crap and you really should be painting the rest of the bedroom, paying more attention to your fella, braiding your Mom’s hair, starting laundry, cleaning the kitchen, showering, organizing something, ANYTHING, but not just lying like a puddle of protoplasm on the couch, wasting precious non-work hours, being semi-exhausted and brain dead.

I HATE THESE TWO HOURS! More than anything, they make me feel my age and status in this life. Married, no kids, 50 hour work week, yadda yadda. It’s almost like I’m too tired to do something useful, like call a best friend and chat for an hour about nothing or work on a “myself” project, and yet too energized just to go to bed because I’ve already worked a full day, worked out at the gym, practiced my cello and feel like I’ve EARNED these two hours to do whatever I like, how I like it.

And yet, I find that I can’t relax enough to enjoy doing nothing. I watch some trash TV shows and find myself getting irritated that they are dictating how long until bedtime. I get in bed to read, but as soon as I’m horizontal and warm, I’m asleep. Book open, lights on, fast asleep until Baker Boy shuts the house down. I could meditate but I want to spend time with Roy while we’re actually in the same location. But he has his own agenda. Grading papers, lesson planning, or defrag time with Civilization (if any of you know what this game is, I know you feel me, and we should mourn together….often) – he needs those throw away hours for his own shit, as well.

So when I finally do go to bed, I feel like the day was “wasted” and I’m not as productive and amazing as I think that I am. I had these two extra hours a day to conquer the world, and I spent them watching either Tina or Amy (I LOVE YOU LIZ, I LOVE YOU LESLIE!), the Countess Dowager, or a show about what television thinks is a Modern Family.

Mostly, I wish I didn’t hate on myself for having two “free” hours per day and NOT being productive to a fault with them. Roy tells me almost ALL OF THE TIME that free hours in the day are what people aspire to have, and that we should definitely enjoy having nothing to “do”.

But what if you are just a do-er by nature and by NOT doing, you’re manifesting more harm than good?! Is that even possible??? Can free time mean negativity? Ask any parent who has a kid in high school; yeah, sometimes free time isn’t the best.

I can just hear my friends with kids saying, “ENJOY IT! Once there’s a tiny, you will never have free time again!” (read this). So, like my old job where my days were spent starring out the window and I was constantly reminded to appreciate those empty hours, I longed for the job I have now where my ass is moving and shaking (that sounds wrong…) all day long and LOVING IT. Loving being important, and busy, and needed. Maybe a kid to fill the empty hours is what I’m actually dancing around in this post. But more so, I guess I’m using this as a reminder TO MYSELF FROM MYSELF that those hours are whatever I chose to make of them, and good or bad, they are MY time and having MY time is a success all on its own.

However, like anything that is taught, can a person learn to relax? Let’s see how I feel after Fiji. Xxxx