The reluctant housewife

Fuck you, Comcast.

Strong words, I know. But if you'd spent the past week and a half unable to connect to most sites (such as Google, Yahoo, and even such rarefied corners of the web as the Organic Valley site), you'd be hatin' on Comcast, too.

Even Booby, who is quite the computer nerd, can't fix the problem here in house, so it looks like we're stuck until a) Comcast gets its shit together or b) we switch to another provider. The local competitor, RCN, has pricing that's a few dollars more, but it's starting to look miiiiighty attractive nowadays.

Enough boring connectivity stuff.

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While I can't say that I really miss my job, I do miss the structure that work provided me. [The smallest violin in the world plays in the background.] I've found it somewhat difficult, thus far, to organize my day into anything resembling a schedule in which I accomplish the various things I really should be getting done. Usually, I manage one or two odious household chores, and then it's back to the TiVo. Pathetic, no? I mean, I've already had a two week "vacation," so it's probably time to cobble up a to-do list and get off my ever-widening ass.

In addition to the daily structure, I miss the convenience of being in the city for work. There were always a spare few minutes to return a library book or pick up my farm share after clocking out. I had plans to visit the local gelateria on a semi-regular basis, figuring that a bitter chocolate gelato craving isn't so bad, calorie-wise (and has the lovely texture of soft serve without the germs from the pump machine, best avoided during pregnancy). I have a craving for the pizza from the place across the street (I have conveniently forgotten the time I found a hair in my slice), and I'm pining for the cheesesteaks available up the street. The neighborhood here at home doesn't have these things, or even viable substitutes. Attending to what used to be everyday matters and errands now necessitates a lengthy trip on a subway car or (heaven forfend) car trip, which always feels like rush hour, even if it's only 3 p.m.

I'm sure that if I push myself just a little harder, I can consolidate my trips into town and make the most of them, and even force myself to clean my house a little bit every day.

I guess I just miss the feeling of having purpose and being "useful."