Don’t Ask Me

It’s been a busy week, with a lot of moving pieces — more moving pieces than I’ve had in a long time — and I’ve found myself exhausted and dizzy than usual as a result. Not necessarily in a bad way, I should add, but as it approaches the end of the week, I’m left feeling somewhat dazed by everything that’s been going on.

Some of that makes sense; I had a number of work irons in the fire this week, and I added another one because I am both stupid and need the money. (It is, however, something so surreal and unexpected and fun that I’m kind of delighted to make myself that little bit busier; when it happens, it’ll be clear what I’m talking about.) I knew, going into Monday, that I’d be especially busy this week, so it’s not as if that came as a surprise.

Instead, there’s the part that is a surprise, and perhaps a little nonsensical, as well: I felt overwhelmed by the choice of entertainment available to me when I wasn’t working. Thanks to a number of welcome coincidences, I found myself with a bunch of ARCs of things I wanted to read all at once, and the freedom to read whichever I wanted to — and I felt almost paralyzed by that fact. (So much so, in fact, that I spent an evening reading other things entirely, because it seemed easier in some inexplicable way. Alas, my poor brain.)

This is to say nothing of the number of things that I want to watch when slumped in front of the television in the evening, with Legendary and Top Chef both back, and shows like Hacks or the many movies I have cued up all waiting for my attention if and when I’m ready for them.

The problem for me, apparently, is choice — both in terms of entertainment and what I’m working on that particular day; when I have to get something done, I can just settle in and handle it. If I get to decide for myself what to focus on, that’s when the problems begin.

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