Dissatisfaction

I haven't written that e-mail yet. I need to. Maybe today at work; for the first time I've actually got gaps in my schedule. Not that not having gaps has prevented me from, say, looking up vegetarian Moroccan recipes on the few websites that are unblocked, or reading about earwax and the Industrial Revolution on Wikipedia and depression and chignons on About.com.

This morning, I've called a dentist (not the one Brenda recommends because he's not with my current insurance; I sure hope the one I'm going to is also with whatever insurance my new company has) and discussed vegetarian options with the potential wedding caterer (how many people actually like eggplant parmesan? And will people be annoyed at having only one chicken entree?). And I'm just about to write to a friend about having a Spinning in our Graves day on Saturday. I need to go pick up my rear tail light assembly and vacuum and do yardwork, but that wasn't bad for a morning. So why am I feeling dissatisfied and inadequate? I don't get it. Perhaps it's because I slept in. I was feeling fine yesterday. We had Edith's yoga instructor come over for a private class for four of us, and while I don't feel much need for yoga as a stretching exercise I did enjoy its calming and stress-relieving qualities. I've been thinking lately about what it would take to make me happy, and the answer right now is that I'm not sure. But, my disorganized mind craving organization as it always does, getting stuff done ought to help and it doesn't.

I suppose I could go pick up the tail light assembly; it's on the way to work. I also want to buy a second shirt of the sort I'm wearing (and bought at JC Penney over the weekend on sale), because it's comfy and flattering and $20. ("I realize I'm only a cotton blend, but I've been tried on by a lot of girls and let me tell you, you look great.") But I don't think that will be enough. What's it going to take to make me happy? Not just momentarily contented, but a general satisfaction with what I'm doing with my life? I suppose I have to do something with my life. Something other than what I'm doing. The new job may help, but then again it may not. It's customer-service related, and what am I doing working in customer service? I hate customers. Admittedly it's still miles better than my current job, more interesting and better hours and better pay and better bosses (as far as I can tell, anyway), and through it I will probably have better opportunities, but will those opportunities do me any good?

Arrrgh. (Incidentally, I'm reading The Pirates! In an Adventure with Ahab and while I prefer realism over straight humor, it's pretty amusing. And The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists, the other half of the volume, had a great bit in it about density.) I don't want to be unhappy with where I am. After all, as someone I talked to at work said the other day, go look at a homeless person and you'll realize how well off you are. But I'm dissatisfied anyway. Is this the quarterlife crisis? I thought I had that already.

Oh well. This week I will pick up the tail light assembly and vacuum and send that e-mail, and go to the dentist, and maybe pick up a cheap pot for dyeing (I have a crockpot from Goodwill but we've got a lot of fiber to dye, plus she's going to try to bring her mother and sister), and go to the mall; and I will try to be happy with what I have, and figure out what it is I feel I don't have.