Space

I used to be a creative person--in my spare time I wrote poems, short stories, novels, haikus...you name it. These days, spare time? What's that? I'm a chronically tired 27-year old, chubby single mom with an active 4-year old and a crazy dog in a small 2 bedroom apartment in the expensive ass Washington, DC suburbs. There's no such thing as spare time...it's taken me 15 minutes to type this one short paragraph! Between the "Mommy, can you get me a drink?", "Mommy, whatcha doin on the computer?", "Mommy, Bingo just ate your thermometer!", and the occasional weird panting noises, pawing, and random bursts of energy from the canine clawing at my right side, it's a miracle I've made it this far tonight.

Yes, I'm complaining. This is my blog dammit, and I'm not going to feel guilty for feeling a little overwhelmed and wanting to get away from it all. I don't have much of a life to speak of beyond basic survivalism, so shouldn't there be some free time to just be...well, me? Some people use drugs or exercise to cope--I could use a little of both right now but all I really want is some damn space. Don't get me wrong, I love my son, my dog, and have a lot to be thankful for...ah. There it is. The guilt.

Sigh. Rant over.