Busy Hands are Happy Hands

I was enlightened today.

My dear mother called me this afternoon to see how the Sacramento house-wife was doing, knowing it might not be much. To prove her point, I was eating popcorn and watching an episode of "Kitchen Nightmares" at the time, with great intentions to take a shower eventually.

Perhaps you would like to hear other things I've done to fill my days besides job-searching:
    - I watched reruns of the biggest loser while picking the not-quite-cooked beans out of a bean and corn salad.
    - I walked a couple loops around my 567 sq ft. apartment. Given the size, it didn't take me long.
    - I've looked all over the web for stuff. Nothing in particular.
    - I've cleaned the apartment several times. It doesn't seem to last long.
    - I've watched any number of random videos and hulu programs.
    - I've taken to sleeping in.
    - I've worked out with P90X. Having Tony Horton and his workout team pushing me is the closest thing I get to human contact during the week.

Riveting, I know. All of that to say, my mother pointed something about that I knew about myself but had forgotten in the mind-numbing day-to-day nothingness. I AM WIRED TO BE BUSY.

Perhaps you yourself knew this. I'd forgotten, but it's true. The more on my plate, the more excited I get about life. I light up when I'm crammed doing things I love. I need human interaction. I need to be working and making money. I have to have some kind of meaningful work in my life, something to look forward to and interact with day to day. Without it, I become a recluse.

Some people can take free time and lounge in it like a cat in sunshine. I get antsy, depressed, agitated and finally withdrawn. If I have no reason to get up in the morning, I won't really.

The problem is I have nothing to do here in Sacramento. I'm job searching, but there's not much out there. I need to feel like I have something to look forward to, but in reality I don't. The hope is that Bob and I get out of here soon. What should I do in the meantime?

In the words of the infamous tootsie pop narrator: "The World may never know."