Spot on.

I tried to paint my fingernails this morning, which I suppose I accomplished. Unfortunately, I also painted a whole lot of my fingers in the process. Only on my right hand, of course, because I thought it was smart to paint dark red polish on my finger tips before I got dressed or brushed my teeth or ate my breakfast. Frustrated by my manic Monday manicure, I performed a pathetic search of the refrigerator and selected a slice of flat-bread pizza for breakfast. I steered the car with my knee through several construction zones, trying to chip away at my fiasco fingernails. This is a conceited way to begin the week. If you could see me right now, you would understand that there is nothing to be conceited about.

What is it with travel that makes people, or maybe just me, so restless? It's not like I went on a life-changing excursion last weekend, but suddenly I'm feeling the "neither here nor there" tensions of trying to determine which of my lives I want to hang on to. Which place do I want to live, and near which people? I am realizing that I can't have everything I want. I can't live in New Hampshire three seasons of the year, spend spring in Pennsylvania, and amasse the select group of people I care most about in the those locations on that schedule. Life is annoying like that. Having friends is complicated like that. Central Pennsylvania in fall and winter is ugly like that. I've had the convenience of tunnel vision for the past year, and now I have no idea what I want. Or, maybe I am afraid to admit what I want?

So, I'll distract myself with smears of nail polish, and usually neglected blogs, and anything that can keep me from really finding the answers to the should, could, would questions.

I'm All Shook-Up

A few minutes ago I got into a dispute with my mother over the fact that she took my spot in the bathroom toothbrush holder last week. I know that she has at least two of her retired toothbrushes already taking up valuable toothbrush real-estate. She does not understand my frustration. On the other hand, she owns this rent-free establishment I've been living in for the past 11 months, so I guess I will have to find a coping mechanism that doesn't involve sabotaging her eighteen billion blue toothbrushes. Darn.

That being said, I apparently have the maturity of a five-year old today. I'm not sure if that is better or worse than usual, but I sense that I am in a dangerous mood this evening--the sort of mood that is best addressed by removing myself from all social interactions, and going to sleep in hopes that slumber will serve as a "reset" function for my terrible tantrum-like demeanor. Too bad I had both coffee and a caffeinated soda on my seven hour drive earlier today, coupled with all sorts of melodramas that I've been playing out in my head because I am brimming over with nostalgia and/or discontent. Sleep will not bail me out of this sinking ship quite yet.

I get all worked up when my friends make comments out of left field related to my (total lack of a) love life. Comments like, for instance, "what might happen with so-and-so if you relocated to his area?" Why I take these things as directives from God Almighty is really beyond me, but for the next few days (you know, until I realize that my divinely betrothed is completely devoid of interest in me) I feel like I have to seriously evaluate the suggestion. This whole thing is ludicrous. Please avoid making statements like this unless you know that the attractive male to whom you refer is ready to propose to me.

Who am I, and what am I going to do with my life?! I think those questions are fairly self-explanatory. The answers, on the other hand, are so very far beyond me right now. Skip eligible bachelor commentaries, offer me a job, and tell me what hobbies I like. I don't know how to be an adult and make decisions for myself, so please just make them for me. Forever. Thank you very much.