Freelance Jail

'Twas the morning before Easter and all through the apartment,
Not a creature was stirring, except Office Max
(who was chewing on cellophane surrounding a bouquet)

I love and hate this moment.

I love that my brother and sister-in-law are asleep in the next room.

I love that Max keeps pacing alongside the keyboard, demanding more nudges.

I hate that I have to work on a freelance piece instead of being allowed to go in and jump on their bed, singing obnoxious "Good Morning" songs.

I love the quiet, and that I'm the only one up, with Max and the full coffee pot.

But I want them to wake up and be with me.

Spending Easter with family is priceless. I got teary driving to the airport last night, because I just realized I need a dose of my family. And what a perfect time for it as we celebrate our risen Savior.

And oh do I need a Savior. My heart is crabby and craggly and gross these days. I need love. I need to be shown how to love.

For now, I will meditate on that, as I review my story, sip my coffee, snuggle the cat, and wait for my family to rise and get this party started.

Blessed Easter,
Bailey

The night I watched the cat watch TV

Max watched TV last night.

No really.

And he blocked my view.

Jerk. Cute, cute jerk.

I couldn't sleep last night -- which is nothing new as of late or in my life as a whole, but otherwise is a rather recent development -- and so I decided to turn on some delicious Felicity to ease the pain and hopefully ease me into sleepiness.

Plus I was just lying there thinking about all the things I have to do in the next week (it's like three weeks worth of stuff), so I wasn't getting anywhere.

So I pulled out my laptop, went to my Amazon account, and pressed play.

And thennnnnn, the cat decided to march himself across the keys.

He positioned himself comfortably, paws tucked under his soft, white breast, to the left of the keyboard.

And then he proceeded to watch some TV.

How.

Cute.

Is.

That?????????

!!!!!

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

So anyway, the two of us watched Ben and Felicity's drama unfold before us, in the glory that is historic-haircut season two, and we were having a nice time.

And thennnnnnn, the cat decided to -- for whatever feline reason -- move himself a little more onto the keys.

This time, he managed to mute the show, and block my view.

And he totally moved his head to watch the shadows and flickers of light, occasionally pawing at the screen when he saw movement.

I can't get over how adorable this was.

So suddenly we found ourselves in this situation:

The cat was watching TV, and I was watching the cat.

The latter is routine, the former, novel.

So wonderfully novel.

I examined the edge of his silhouette, lit by the computer screen. When I touch him he feels smooth, like silk, but in this light he looked almost prickly, with tufts of fur separated and jutting out to different lengths.

And those glossy eyes, like marbles, so sweetly moving around, slowly examining the lives of University of New York students, painted in near-sepia tones, speaking in always hushed voices.

"Hey," Felicity says to Ben. Oh how many times does she repeat that line? And why is that show just like a drug to me? I LOVE IT.

At one point Javier had his hand up in the air, and I was hoping, hoping that the cat would paw at him and give him a high five.

Eventually I got sleepy, and I moved aside, leaving Max in peace to watch the show. I dozed, then finally came to and realized he had moved on. I closed the PC, then snuggled in with my WB drama loving cat, the two of us drifting off to slumberville. When I woke up this morning, he was nestled near my torso.

What can I say but that I recommend watching TV with your animal. It's, like, the best.

I can't keep acting like a 20 something.

I'm too old for this.

I can't go see Springsteen until 1 a.m.

I can't freelance and work a full time job.

I can't do karaoke two nights a week.

I can't be the multi-tasker who doesn't answer texts. I don't want to be her. I want to be the girl who gives my friends attention and more attention. I want to be Super Friend.

Super Friend! Super Friend! She's super friendyyy, yow.

I need to pet the cat more. Just shove my face in his belly and feel it rattle.

Alex and I are leaving town for a wedding tomorrow (not ours), and we both just decided that we need to let ourselves rest tonight and tomorrow morning and leave later rather than earlier.

Regardless I plan to have a Starbucks in hand as we roll away.

Venti.

How you say 100?

Centi.

That's what I need. A Centi macchiato.

And make it a triple.

And I need rest. With a motoring cat next to me.

I feel like my blog has morphed into Bailey's diary, and all it ever says is: "Bailey's tired." "Bailey wants donuts." "Bailey's obsessed with her cat."

I'm sorry about that.

Wait no I'm not.

I wonder if Bruce Springsteen likes spaghetti, since his name shares so many letters with the dish?

Deep thoughts for your Friday afternoon.

I would make coffee, but I'm too tired and lazy to get up and do it.

Today's diet:

Coffee
Oatmeal (dried fruit, pecans, cinnamon)
Potato chips
Coke
Salad (chicken, avocado, chia seeds, cucumber, tomato)
More Coke
Water
Four (?) Reese's eggs
Water
Water

I've peed a lot today. I've kept my energy -- and my mood -- up today.

But I'm crashing, friends. Crash. ing.

Craaaaaaaaaaaaaash into me, yeah. Baaaabyyyyyy.

I love Joni Mitchell (I know the above lyric is not one of hers. Calm down).

OK. I might go see about that coffee now. Because something's gotta change, and that change ain't going to be that I'm reverting to my youth. Because clearly I'm getting old.

Bye, folks. Talk lata. Hopefully more competently.

Immediate Chipotle needed

You know how in Love Actually Sam's stepdad* says, "We need Leo. And we need Kate. And we need them now."?

I'm like that right now, except I'm like, "I need Chipotle. And I need to breathe. And I need these things now."

*by the way, how many viewings did it take you to figure out he wasn't his birth father? Because I know it wasn't one viewing. Don't lie to me. You're safe here.

I am a crank. pot. right now.

I'm going to see Bruce Springsteen tonight, and the Boss better snap me out of this funk or I tell you what.

Aren't my blog posts just lovely and happy lately? :)

Sorry, Guys, I just am juggling freelance work and regular work and that always gets me out of sorts. Plus my next two weekends are booked, so I really am giving every spare moment to work/travel prep/having-guests-at-the-apartment prep.

I tell ya, I will never stop re-learning the lesson that sometimes being busy is fun but sometimes it is not!

Anyway, that's all I have time to write right now, because I've gotta get back to it!

Grumpy smooches!

Brought to you from the middle of the night (ugh)

Insomnia used to be a friend enemy of mine, but I'm pretty sure that once we parted ways I never asked it to drop in for a visit whenever it felt like it.

So why?, insomnia, are you here tonight?

As much as I love any opportunity to feel the cat's weight against my leg, and to listen to his tongue voraciously comb his fur...well, I'd rather be sleeping right now.

Legitimately aggravated am I, and a wee bit unsettled, by the fact that I haven't struggled to sleep in well over a year, and for the past two nights I have spent any time at all staring at the ceiling.

These have been mild cases, too, mind you, which is causing me to ask: how did I ever put up with this for all those years?

I used to not sleep at all, People. Like, would lie in bed, never fall asleep, and then get out of bed in the morning.

It was terrible. So terrible that I'd rather not explore it right now, I'm discovering rapidly as I type this.

So let's move on.

I'm going to see my therapist in approximately 10 hours. I don't usually "excite" (yes, I'm making that a verb) for therapy sessions, but I finally did something that I've been telling him for months I would do, so I'm looking forward to marching in there, plopping myself on that couch, and casually, arrogantly telling him that, well. I finally did it.

I hope there's a standing ovation and an applause track.

There really should be.

I packed a workout bag before going to..."sleep" tonight. I find this is the first step to success in an exercise plan for myself. I used to think the big important thing was getting to the gym, but I'm finding what needs to come prior is dressing out for gym.

Remember when we used to throw that term around? Dressing out? Phew. Throw back Thursday, Y'all.

Anyway. I'm excited for my four miles of cardio tomorrow.

And for therapy. Whoa. What's up with me? Not sleeping and I'm looking forward to therapy.

All right, let's see what else I can talk to you about before trying to sleep again.

OK, this is another downer topic, like insomnia (or would that be an upper? Since it keeps you up?), but we're going to delve into it, because no time like the can't-believe-I'm-still-awake present.

So I've been catching myself in moments of self reflection lately, and I feel like I'm coursing with poison.

Dramatic? Maybe. But I just feel like I'm being judgmental and negative and nasty and gossipy and yick yick yick what is up with me?!

Praying -- in the 20 second bursts that I can manage -- that I can reel it in and get some good coursing through my veins again soon.

Do you ever have seasons -- however brief -- like that? Where you just look at yourself and think, "[Your name here]? Calm it down. Be nice!"?

Well I'm in one of those seasons. I'd appreciate your prayer if you can spare a 20 second burst of a moment.

Now off to see if my body will grant me a little rest.

Love,
Not the nicest, or well-rested, or thinnest version of me