Zombie Apocolypse...at least, for me

Kids, I will be the first one to tell you, I love my jobs.  My coworkers are fabulous (and how can they not be, with names like Little Bitch, Buffy Wedgewood, and the Boy Genius Organist?), I spend most days laughing and/or making music, and I'm fortunate enough to be working--at least part time--in my chosen field.  Don't get me wrong--I'm totally thankful to have not one, but two jobs that I love.

HOWEVER.

There comes a time when Baby Girl needs a break.  The downside to having two jobs is that there are stretches of time without any days off.  At all.  This?  Has been one of those times.  I cannot even remember the last day I had to myself where I didn't have to go anywhere or do anything or see anybody, but I'm pretty sure that it's been over 3 weeks.  And I'm tired.  My brain feels like day-old oatmeal, congealed inside my head (you're welcome for that image, by the way).  My dog is acting out (read:  eating more non-food items than normal).  The dishes are piled up in the sink because when I get home at the end of the day, I'm just too damn tired to move.

Part of the problem is that I--believe it or not--am an introvert.  Yet both of my jobs require me to be "on" all day, every day, and it's taxing.  So when I finally return to my little house at night, all I want to do is sit and be very still.

Pretty sure a lot of people might read this and think how ungrateful I sound--I mean, I HAVE a job, when many do not.  I have a house to go to at the end of the day.  I know.  I feel like a bitch saying it.  But, I am tired of walking around, surviving on coffee and peanut butter, feeling like a zombie.  Not only is it wearing on my mind, it's making it harder and harder to stave off the everyday demons I confront.  Fatigue + Depression = Grumpy Eden McAngrypants.

The remedy for this personal zombification?  Well, this afternoon I'm getting a massage (one of the other perks of working at a spa).  Then tonight, I'm going to dinner with some gal pals, as well as--are you ready for this???--a burlesque show.  That's right, kids.  Burlesque.  I will be thouroghly disappointed if it's not exactly like the movie--Christina, Stanley, and Cher optional, but it's gotta have that kind of heart.  I'll report back tomorrow.


In the mean time? Lock your doors, lest Zombie Grumpy Eden McAngrypants breaks in and turns your brains into day-old congealed oatmeal (all the better to eat them with, you see...).