Day Eight: Time Zones, or: Why Isn’t Everyone Asleep?

I am a crazy person.

If I’m going to be writing every day it’s going to come out sooner or later, so I’m just throwing it on the table.  As many famous folks, from Tony Soprano to 2Pac, have said, “I got problems.”  Most of which manifest by my brain jamming its fingers in its ears and saying “lalalala I can’t hear you” anytime my stress levels rise above about a 2.2, which results in me staring at the internet when I ought to be brushing the baby’s teeth or putting out that grease fire.

But that’s just a by-the-by; today I mostly want to talk about having international friends on Facebook.  I find something incredibly stressful and disheartening reading about what people are cooking for lunch when I’m about to go to bed.  I guess I’m just very suggestible — especially when it comes to things my brain thinks I “ought” to be doing — and when I read on Facebook that someone is “headed out to the park with Junior” at 5:30 PM (when I ought to be fixing dinner (actually, ought to be SERVING a dinner I already fixed (see? OUGHT OUGHT OUGHT))), I think “argh, the park!  There’s #1,945 on my infinite list of things I ought (!) to have done today, and now it’s too late.”

I want everyone in the world to do what I do, when I do it.  Including not going to the park, not baking delicious cakes, not using naptime to crochet or fold laundry or write that novel, not watching Doctor Who and not having considered and reasoned opinions about an article in the New York Times (oh wait — nobody on Facebook has those).

This is not a very coherent post.  My bad.

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