Bored, bored, bored...

...I'm not sure what it is, but I've been thoroughly bored this week. It's like anytime I have downtime, I'm just ho-humming and twiddling my thumbs. Don't I usually have things that I'm dying to do that take up alot of time? Like laundry? Don't I relish doing laundry? No? Hmm...


It must be let down from an uber-fab (That means "great" for all you non-German speakers.)Spring Break. The girls and I had a blast. Plus, I had a great book to fill up the non-partying hours. But now we're back to school and I can't seem to remember what I use to do all day long. I'm the stay-at-home, non-mean version of Samantha Who?.
Except I didn't get in a car accident. What do you think that means? Do I need to get checked out? Does insurance cover self-diagnosed amnesia? See, I told you I was a hypochondriac.

Of course, while typing this, I realize that I'm finally done with the celebrations of the spring. (Valentine's Dance, 5yo's birthday, hubby's birthday, 7yo's birthday, Easter) I must have end-of-major-projects-depression. Surely, this is a viable disease. Symptoms: lethargy even when watching British period-piece-dramas (except, of course, The Tudors), wandering around the house but studiedly avoiding the laundry room, checking your blog for comments every 5 minutes. There are others, but I can't be bothered to write them out, or think of them for that matter.

Well, as long as I'm self-diagnosing, I might as well self-prescribe. I am going to come up with a project for the house, even if it kills me. Because the EOMPD just might, otherwise!