Lately the days seems to float by completely unnoticed. I’m thinking it’s Tuesday when it’s actually Thursday, and now in the blink of an eye the month is coming to a close. Much like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, I wake up every day to the same old songs, routine and struggles. As the season shifts, days get gloomier, colder and end earlier. I don’t know if it’s because I am restless, bored, or even unhappy, but all I can think about is busting out of this joint. I find myself constantly daydreaming about a weekend getaway to a different country, heck, a different city would suffice. I don’t want to go with anyone or have any communication with friends or family, I just want to be completely alone for 72 hours and take a break from being a wife and mother. Honestly, I want to take a break from being me. It may come off as selfish, or even a little bit childish, but I want certain people to really feel the sting of my absence, and actually miss my cooking and housekeeping, even some my quirks and nagging. I’m constantly worrying about everyone and everything, and it would be nice if someone would worry about me for a change. I am starting to annoy myself with these feelings of dissatisfaction. I know that it will pass, but right now, as I surf the crimson wave, it’s hard to shake this feeling of carelessness and indifference, and feeling, well, stuck. I better uninstall these Expedia and Travelocity apps from my phone before I do something totally nuts!