Thursday, February 26, 2015

The Tactile Equivalent of Coffee

I have been feeling unhappy with myself lately. And if you've read my last few posts, you've probably gotten that vibe loud and clear. I have, however, a few steps to take to clear my head of the cobwebs and, dear reader, writing is one of them.

Well, the first step is realizing that one of the reasons I'm feeling lower than whale dung is that I spend far, far too much time on the computer doing nothing much. Nothing like wasting most of a day, or a week, or a month to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could be doing something better. Staring at a monitor for eight to twelve hour days is marginally worth it if you're making money doing so, but if you're only making yourself miserable - well, one does have to question one's sanity at some point. Or at least the wisdom of certain life choices.

So. Half a pot of coffee and the tactile equivalent of caffeine, which for me means writing. It gets my brain going and gives me motivation to do things other than waste my life. I have a back yard to dig up, fer goodness' sake.

But yeah, one miserable gripe. I wish my spouse would either be on my schedule, or that I could give a few damns less about whether or not I wake him up when I'm working my routines. He has an online game that he just loves, but it basically chains him to a computer for weeks at a time, not counting work time. He goes to sleep at six in the morning and sleeps until whenever, which means I can't fully access part of my workspace. It's a small house, so there is no 'extra space' to clear out to have a place of my own. That bedroom is it, and he occupies it when he wants, for as long as he wants.

Part of the problem is that we're both introverts, him more than me (I still find that astonishing, by the way), and the way he gets his alone time is when everybody is asleep. The way I get my alone time is everybody is out of my room and when the door is closed, they leave me alone unless the house is on fire or there is a copious amount of blood to be dealt with. I think I'm going to have to be more open and insistent about my need while trying to accommodate his - this may mean a more sharply defined schedule (as in: I don't mind you playing until 6 a.m., truly, but you need to be out by 1 p.m. so I can have my cave back. This means that between 1 and 6 p.m. I am not available for any reason.)

For my sanity and my productivity, we need to come to an accommodation. Either that or I build a hut in the back yard and live there.

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