Days off . . .

I rarely admit boredom. But to give those of you who know me a bit of an idea of how bored I am, I started cleaning my room a few minutes ago. Thankfully, the idea of blogging came up, and so this will busy me for the forseeable future.

An injured foot sucks. Everything I enjoy doing involves my feet - drumming, basketball, not sitting on my ass all day. And I'd usually take a day like today as an opportunity to get out and see some people, but the car be dead.

So.

Rather than bitch about it, Ima start looking for opportunities here. I DID just pick up some Tolkien I've never read, and I DO need to get going on my paper for school, and I DO need to finish / start my novel.

Somehow, a banged up foot can make it hard to focus on any of those, let alone walk. Oy.

I love working. I don't really care what it is, but I love being dog tired after a day of manual labour. If I do become an addictions / marriage counsellor, I think I'm going to need a heavy dose of physical exertion weekly just so I feel good and tired at times. Sick days, injured days? Write offs . . . I'd rather have done overtime. C'est la vie.

There is something good and holy about work . . . it is deeply fulfilling, or should be, and dare I say, it is worship. God created work long before Lucifer created disobedience, and so it's not inherently bad but inherently GOOD.

I'm not sure if I have a point, and if I do, I'm not sure what it is. Also, it's time to ice the foot. Later.