Feeling: ridiculous
Listening to: Dispatch - Headlights
Reading/Watching: nothing

Mids are temporary. Mids are temporary. Mids are temporary. Mids are temporary. Mids are temporary.

Mon coeur works from 10:30 at night until 6:30 in the morning (a shift called "mids"), so that our schedules are completely inverted. He works when I'm sleeping, I'm awake with free time when he's sleeping, and he's awake with free time when I'm working.

On his two days off, Friday and Saturday, I just discovered that I have play rehearsals. Friday night, and all day Saturday. And then again Sunday evening at 5 (one hour after I finish my voice lessons, thankyouverymuch).

This knowledge, combined with a long and exhausting visit to the gym (a failed attempt to work off frustration), culminated in the moment when I came home from rehearsal and exercise, tired and sweaty, saw a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and literally burst into tears.

Then I called mon coeur and tersely reminded him about the rule of "if you didn't cook, you clean," and if I was remembering correctly, it was me who made dinner that night, not him, blah blah blah drama queen crap, as if it hadn't taken me exactly ten minutes to rinse off the dishes and load them into the dishwasher myself.

I just feel like there is no room for error. In anything. (Sigh, it's just like old times.) I auditioned for the stupid play because I wanted to get back into theater, I wanted something creative to do with my free time, because I am going crazy during the long boring days in the middle of the week when no substitutes are needed and I thought being in a musical would be the perfect answer, but now I'm finding that I either have to flake out on about four rehearsals, or not visit home for Christmas, and dammit, it's Christmas. Why the hell are they asking everyone to rehearse on December 23rd and December 26th? (Plus, if I audition, get in the play, and then leave, I am a quitter. I have never been a quitter, at least not in my memory.)

Being too busy is a very familiar place for me. Being not busy enough made me want to slit my wrists. But now, being out of practice with being too busy, I am six inches away from batshit crazy.

It doesn't help that after losing 30 pounds and getting used to that lovely feeling of the numbers on the scale dropping consistently, I've stayed roughly the same weight since Thanksgiving, and I'm about ready to panic (which is ridiculous, because this is the first time I've been a size 12 since junior high). Knowing that it's ridiculous does not, however, make me any saner, because the wedding dress still does not zip, and that has become The Most Important Thing In the World. I'm beginning to think the dress shrinks along with me, so that it will never actually fit.

At this point, it is probably in everyone's best interest for me to shut up and try to get some sleep. There's ugly little colds and flus floating around among my students (and my roommate), and I'm feeling the tug I used to get every year around finals: that as soon as I stop running in circles, I'll be down with laryngitis and a wracking cough for three days.

Shutting up now. All things will resolve themselves if I just give myself time to unravel the knots.

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