I pace the living room anxiously. I am antsy and nothing sounds right to do. I should have worked out. Didn't happen. I should play guitar. Ugh. I could watch TV. Groan.

I am waiting for my laundry to be done.
It is late and I want to go to bed.
I hate this.
This obligation errand, done in the comfort of your own home, yet somehow even more annoying that way.

I don't want to get involved in anything too deep, because soon the ding will happen and I can finally sleep. But I don't like doing nothing and feeling useless, either.

I can only think about how I spent too much money today. How I should have gotten more sleep yesterday. How I don't want to go to work. How I just want to hug my boyfriend all night.

All these things run around my mind like so many pinballs, bouncing around aimlessly, getting exited for a second, then lolling slowly back to the propellors, to be pinged again in another direction.

I hate this.
We spend a great deal of our lives waiting--in line, for the mail to come, for friends to meet us at the bar, for the elliptical machine to be free at the gym...
for our laundry to be done.
How sad, if you really think about it. We are always waiting.
It can be as small as waiting for the internet to connect (damn you, dial up!) or as huge as waiting for one's "big break" in whatever career choice one has chosen.
We wait, and in the meantime?
In the meantime what?
We pace. We ping thoughts around. We blog on about nothing in particular. We check our cell phones for phantom ringing.

I just want to sleep.
I guess I will go check on the clothes now.