I've been in a funk. The kind of funk that lies just below the surface a lot of the time. The kind where I could cry real tears in a second if you wanted me to. Now that it's Saturday again though, the funk lifts, like it did last Saturday. Comes back Sunday afternoon; goes til Friday night.
I do like the job, I do. It's fine. The people around me are (so far) quite nice, and do things like ask if I want to come with them to the cafeteria across the street at lunch, or, let's go to Winners, stuff like that, which was totally missing from my last fulltime gig.
I even feel comfortable with the work, and the subject matter is okay -- not particularly meaningful, mind you, and that could be part of the problem. The cubicle is dark and crowded; that's not good. But the pay is.
I miss having more easy unstructured time with my boy, like we were able to have this morning, with lots of snuggles and little kisses. Sometimes I can't get over how beautiful he is. It's just wrong that I can't put my hands on his little shoulders in the middle of the day from Monday to Friday.
Funks don't make great reading, but I'm very much in one. Bring on da noise, I'm in a funk.