On Days Like Today

Hello world on the other side of the screen.

On days like today I go to work and make coffee at 200 degrees Fahrenheit, then spill it all over myself. Burning my hand with coffee is good for making tasks that aren't particularly enjoyable in the first place absolutely miserable.
For instance: Cleaning dirty tables.
Cleaning dirty tables is not absolutely miserable. It can be dull, or frustrating when people are slobs (and more often than not they are). Even so, while I would not choose cleaning dirty tables as my activity for a leisurely afternoon, it is not miserable.
Cleaning dirty tables with a burned hand can be miserable, especially if you are as spacey and inattentive to everything in life as I am. Here's the way it goes:
Step One - Fill bucket with hot soapy water.
Step Two - Grab a rag with burned hand.
Step Three - Plunge burned hand that is now holding the rag into hot, soapy water.
Step Four - Holy freaking ouch, putting a burned hand in hot water hurts. Withdraw hand.
Step Five - Decide to use left hand for wiping tables.
Step Six - After after immense pain in hand mellows, absentmindedly dismiss step five while daydreaming.
Step seven - Repeat steps three through five until all of the tables are clean.
And the beat goes on.
On days like today there is always a wide variety of tasks that aren't particularly enjoyable in the first place that can be made absolutely miserable by having a burned hand, and a not so wide of a variety of burn relief medicines in the first aid kit back in the kitchen. Oh well.

I've been feeling kind of antsy recently. Like, no matter what I'm in the middle of, I'm only half doing it because really I'm just waiting for what I'm going to do next. All day at work I think of leaving work to go do other things. But even after I get off of work, I never feel content with doing what I've been waiting to do; I want to stop in the middle of it and start on the next thing. The only time I feel content to continue what I'm doing is when I'm asleep. Maybe I'm just tired.
My days seem to drag on endlessly.
My days seem to pass me by at an alarmingly rapid pace.
I couldn't tell you what I spend my time doing every day.
I forget what it is I've been looking forward to, but I can't wait.

Anyway, I wish I could write like I used to. I think maybe I am in a...what's it called when you're stuck in one spot and lacking creativity? I'm stuck in one of those.

I love you. Goodbye.

~Nadj