chronic fatigue? no, just life.
September 23, 2005, 8:12 P.M.

I wish I wasn't such a picky person sometimes. It's so darn tiring.

I just needed to make a quick run to the store, and I had a list of about ten items I needed. I ended up going to two different grocery stores, in order to get the exact items I wanted. Sad, isn't it? But the first store didn't have the brand of stuffing mix I wanted, or any good varieties of apples, or an appropriate anniversary card for my best friends. (Finding an anniversary card for a lesbian couple is tough. They all mention man and woman, husband and wife, or are overtly religious in nature. Not good, considering the nature of this relationship, and the personalities involved.)

So even the simplest little trip to the store turns into a big, exhausting production, because I'm so damned picky. I had to come home and make myself a pot of coffee in order to recuperate. Friday is my stay up late and cook night, so I need a little extra oomph.

Part of it is this damned town, and oh, sometimes I just hate it so much! You simply cannot get everything at one store. If they have good produce, the meat sucks. If their dairy is good, the bread sucks. And if you want overall quality, the prices suck. And when you factor in Spouse's altogether different streak of pickiness, grocery shopping without going out of town borders on the impossible. It's no wonder I've been driving as far away as Rolling Meadows for shopping the last couple of years.

But I know, from trying this previously, that I can do a surprising amount in under an hour. So I do want to get back to planning a schedule to portion out my chores a little at a time over the course of the week, and that way I can still have a little time for me.

All of this is complicated by that rebellious little voice inside my head that is always trying to convince me that I should sit around and do nothing. I really don't have enough free time anymore to be able to afford indulging that little voice. Well, let's look at the facts. If I'm following my schedule correctly, here is my day:

I get up in the morning at 4:50 am. I feed and water the dog, then I get ready for work. Brush teeth, clean my glasses, shower, moisturize, do my hair, and dress. Put on my sneakers, and take the dog for a twenty minute walk. Pack my cooler, and fix my coffee. Now, a little "me time"--10 minutes on the porch with my coffee, book, and a cigarette. Come in, grab all my stuff, smooch my sleeping hubby, and go to work--a 50 minute commute.

I work from 7:00 am till 12:30 pm, with no breaks (I drink my water and eat my morning fruit at my desk), and then go to the gym on my 45-minute lunch break. Change into my gear, work out on a treadmill for a half-hour, and then clean up and change back into my work clothes. Back up to my office, where I grab a nutrition bar and another piece of fruit while I work until 4:00 pm. Back into the car for another 50 minutes or so.

Once I'm home (if I don't need to stop at the store or go to a Dr. appointment), I take the dog out, go around picking up and tidying the house, do a session of chores--one day might be vacuum & dust, one day might be clean the bathroom, etc. I do a load of laundry, wash-dry-fold-hang-put away. Eat dinner, do the day's dishes, clean up the kitchen, change the dog's water, set up the coffeemaker for tomorrow, wash fruit and put water bottles to chill, work on the current "special cleaning project" for about a half-hour, water the flowers, lay out my clothes, shoes, and jewelry for the morning, gather up anything I need to take to work in the morning (gym bag, work, etc.), write and post a diary entry, try and take a little time for reading or TV or the computer, walk the dog, and then hit the sheets, where I doze off over my crossword puzzle. And start all over again the next morning.

That's Monday through Thursday. On Friday, it's the same until 11:30, when I get off work. I come home, go to lunch with Spouse, see him off to work at two, and then I usually have a million errands or appointments to keep me busy until about five or so. I do my evening routine, but instead of going to bed at 9:30 or so, I stay up. Prepare a hot dinner for him, to be ready at about midnight. Do dishes and clean up the kitchen, run the dog one last time, and keep him company until he's ready for bed, around two. THEN I get to hit the sheets. I get to sleep in a tiny bit on Saturday, but I'm always up by six, because the dog can't wait forever.

Now, on the face of it--that's a lot of accomplishment in the course of a work week. And I haven't even gone into the weekend, when I do the HEAVY cleaning. But the fact is, none of that stuff is the kind of thing that stays done. So it's a merry-go-round that never ever stops. It's exhausting, and unrewarding, and I feel like it's robbing me of a life. I guess it IS my life, but if the life you have in no way resembles the life you'd choose, I guess it is robbing you of a life.

All I can really say is; Holy Jesus, I am sooo glad I don't have any kids.

Oh. HIS day? Get up at noon, eat, shower, dress, play on the internet, watch Jerry Springer and Maury Povich, go to work, come home, eat, watch TV, read, play on the internet, and go to bed.

And that certainly doesn't make me any less bitter.