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It’s 8:00 p.m. on a Monday night. I’ve finished eating a subpar dinner consisting of chicken, salmon, or a frozen pizza if I’m really feeling lazy, and I’m panicking internally because I haven’t brushed my teeth or pulled up something on Netflix to watch in bed yet. My roommate turns around from his spot on the couch in the living room and says, chuckling, “You going to bed right now?”
“Yeah, I’m exhausted, man. See you tomorrow.”
I get home from work most nights and the last thing in the world I want to do is shoot the shit with anyone. Parents, sister, extended family, close friends, fringe friends- all of those people can fuck right off after I have a bad day in the cubicle. I’m tired and hungry and the only thing I want to do after preparing a meal for myself and eating it is to watch some tv on my laptop in bed. Draw the shades so no light can get in and have a nice tall glass of ice water as HBO or Netflix lulls me to sleep. Other than the crackling wick of a bedside candle and the people talking on my laptop, I want complete and utter silence.
That’s basically every day Monday through Wednesday for me. You might catch me out past 8:00 p.m. on a Thursday every once in a while, but it’s rare and most of the time I curse myself for it come Friday morning. It’s not like I want to sequester myself from the rest of the world after work. My roommate would probably enjoy some company in the living room every now and then. I’m sure my mom and dad would love to hear from me on a day other than Sunday (kind of a ritual for me) sometimes. Friends across the country that I haven’t spoken to in a while probably wouldn’t be opposed to taking a FaceTime call from me on some idle Tuesday.
I simply don’t have the energy, though. And I think it’s becoming detrimental to my personal life. I’m not getting invites to do anything during the week anymore which is what I wanted, I guess. Total radio silence is nice. But I’d be lying to you if I told it doesn’t feel nice to just get the invite, you know? I’ve thought for quite some time now that I might have a thyroid problem. I’m not depressed, I just don’t feel like talking to anyone most days following work. And I don’t know if this is normal or not. I see people on Snapchat at the bar on a Tuesday night and it annoys the living hell out of me. Where do they find the energy for an escapade of that magnitude? And what about the hangover? I mean, my God, you couldn’t get me out on a Tuesday night unless there was a promise of free food, drinks, and sex with a girl way out of my league. I hardly like going out on Friday and Saturday because of the doom and gloom that arrives Sunday. Just imagine how terrible a Wednesday morning is when you’re hungover and terrified to check the balance on your Chase app.
Last Sunday morning I took my little sister out to brunch. On our way home from brunch she asked me what I usually do on Sundays and I said “Sit around in my living room or next to the pool.” We did both of those things on Sunday, and while I don’t think she was incredibly bored, she probably had something else in mind for Sunday other than sitting poolside reading a book.
Here’s the thing about going to bed early: I’m never actually asleep by 8:30 p.m. I make it a point to be in bed at 8, but the chances of me falling asleep before 10:30 are slim to none, which leaves me puffy faced and groggy come 5:50 a.m. when it’s time to go to the gym. It’s a vicious cycle, but I’ve sort of resigned myself to a very sad fact of life: Monday through Wednesday is going to be a slog and I’m always going to be tired. Routine, routine, routine. I can switch that routine up on Thursday every once in a while, but if I didn’t have this routine I think I’d be more tired than I already am. Does that sound crazy? Maybe to some of you. But the alternative to going to bed at a crazy early hour is to pretend like you don’t have work in the morning and just stay up as long as you want. And that just sounds fucking psychotic to me. Am I 25 going on 70 or is this more normal than I think it is? I’ve got to think that most people can sympathize with a guy who simply can’t interact with humans past 7:00 p.m. on a weekday for fear of fucking up an already tired and morose shell of a human being. .
Respond
jduda@grandex.co
You’re a fucking blogger…
Somebody call the Waaaaaambulance
Dude, you need to get the fuck out of Austin. Your life depends on it. I’m legitimately worried about you.
Me too
I’m good, Harvey Specter.
How hard is a day at work making dick jokes and blogging in between playing ping pong with Bacon and Dorn? Is Grandex really that tough, seems like it’s college 2.0
I’m sorry, but call me ignorant for being under the impression the work load of a Grandex Blogger can’t be that stressful. I always liked your blogs (call a spade a spade, when you’re in the Journal, we’ll call it an article) but being around nearly 95% med school residents, associate attorneys and my own people (Financial advisors) you’re sounding like a pussy.
Also, you’re in Austin, go find a Taco Tuesday. That’s all you need: nothing Monday, Taco Tuesday, nothing Wednesday, then here come’s Thursday and all bets are off.
Duda, since I’m basically like the Elon Musk of providing incredible life advice, find another hobby to keep your racing mind occupied in your off hours. Choose one that has the potential to make you money, something that allows you to create something. It will give you energy. Since that’s really hard to do in today’s world, you can always dabble in psychedelics to speak to things that aren’t actually there (this is better than talking to real people because real people aren’t exactly real), find a source of energy in a white powder form. It looks like Oxy-Clean but for your bloodstream. Go to yoga classes and play the beginner card to gain sympathy from the hot women experts and then exploit them for dates and possible sexual encounters. Mingle with people from the seedy parts of Austin because they are a good resource to have on your side of shit were to go down. Finally, you could fake your own death and live the resort life in some Latin American country and forget about all the people you feel obligated to stay in touch with.
Enough with this depressing shit. Move back to Chicago already and go back to writing gold.
Gotta quit working out in he morning, you sound miserable
I felt bad listening to the podcast about the rumors that you had “lost your fastball” but man, this was just depressing.
You’re not alone
I’ve found success in sticking to a social schedule similar to the Army Reserve commitment. One weekend a month, two weeks a year.