A duel with dyads

One of the first things that kids come to understand as they are growing up is the nature of dualistic relationships. Male or female, day or night, hot or cold and so on and so forth. Along with the more basic dyads, we also learn that there's happy or sad, crying or laughing, reasonable or unreasonable.

And that's where my daily dilemma has left me. I'm sitting quietly at my desk and I have no task or purpose other than to sit here. There are certain requirements of my sitting, however. I'm not allowed to sleep, despite my desire to take a nap. I'm not allowed to sing, or watch TV or put my feet up. I have to maintain an illusion of professionalism just in case someone happens to stroll in.

Needless to say, sitting here pondering why my betta fish likes to attack my fingertip when I put it on the glass side of his bowl has me wondering why I even bothered learning how to read. Truly, sitting in this office has led me to conclude that my education was a gigantic waste of money. A dear friend of mine who dropped out of community college in her first semester makes more money than I do. She's a beautiful girl, both inside and out, but book-learning was never her thing. I'm beginning to wish it wasn't my thing.

While some that I complain to believe that I should not be content with my position because I'm to intelligent to be satisfied by the more menial tasks involved, I think they are mistaken. I actually enjoy my job when I come to work and there is actually work for me to do. Indeed, I always enjoyed my job at a bagel shop because it had its own frenetic pace that made the hours flow by.

I loathe having nothing to do, and yet having so much to do it's not funny. I have a pile of laundry sitting at home that could kill a man if it toppled over. I need to take my pooch for a long stroll today--we have a standing date. I really should give myself a pedicure. But I'm trapped. And that makes me want to run around screaming and drooling on myself simultaneously to add to my disheveled, undone self.

Bluh.

The unusual thing is that in the midst of this rather stupifying position, I am also quite happy. I have an amazing significant other who makes me smile and laugh every day, I have a puppy who trots to the door wagging his tail whenever I walk in, I have cute kittens who demand love and attention, but sometimes get distracted a fall asleep in their place du jour, I have a fantastic saltwater fish tank, with zooanthids and zenia, coralline algae and blue-legged hermit crabs, damsels and clown fish and chromis, a goby with a gas problem and a mandarin who is finally getting his figure back after going on a crash diet.

I love my life. I can walk around my neighborhood and not get shot at (although someone did get mugged at gunpoint not too far away the other day). There are flowers and bunnies and baby ducks. A world with all of that stuff really can't be all bad.

But in my office, when I have nothing to do, the world seems do dismal, pointless and punishing that it can be hard to remember flowers and sunshine.

That's why my dream is to run a cat kennel. I can and do pet cats all day long. I love them and I don't mind changing litter boxes and dealing with little territorial spats.

I think my dreams are why I can survive the doldrums. I spend countless hours thinking about the schematics of my potential kennel. I think about business plans and market share and all that jazz. It passes the time.

I just wish I didn't have to pass time. But I suppose that good things come to those who wait.

If only I wasn't so impatient!

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