I don’t know if I feel this way because it’s a Monday, but man do I have The Funk.
My kind of funk is not be confused with the following:
(a) The Funk one feels when dancing, as in We’ve Got the Funk!
(b) The Funk that is synonymous with bad odors, as in “damn, that bathroom smells funk-y!”
My kind of Funk is the kind where you feel so blasé about everything: you don’t feel like doing anything or talking to anyone. You have nothing interesting to say to your husband, or co-workers, or random strangers in the elevator whose shoes you are seriously in love with. The mouth stays shut and the expression blank; the best I could do today was a closed-mouth smile when my boss came around, and only because I like her. I’ve tried shaking it off by visiting my favorite websites, especially those chronicling the adventures of a certain celebrity (we’ll call her Whitney Beers) and her propensity for doing something stupid every time a person with a camera is nearby. Oh Whitney, when will you ever wise up?
I was hoping The Funk would go away after lunch, but I’m afraid it’s settled in for the day. It brought its favorite paperback novel and is happily re-reading its favorite parts as I write this entry. I suppose we all have days when The Funk comes to visit (not to be confused with Flo who comes to town every 28 days), and it is entirely in our control how we choose to react to The Funk. Me? I’m attempting to block out The Funk by focusing on my work. If that still doesn’t help, I’ll need to watch reruns of The Office tonight and hope it goes away. Because honestly, who doesn’t enjoy watching the antics of one Dwight K. Schrute?
My kind of funk is not be confused with the following:
(a) The Funk one feels when dancing, as in We’ve Got the Funk!
(b) The Funk that is synonymous with bad odors, as in “damn, that bathroom smells funk-y!”
My kind of Funk is the kind where you feel so blasé about everything: you don’t feel like doing anything or talking to anyone. You have nothing interesting to say to your husband, or co-workers, or random strangers in the elevator whose shoes you are seriously in love with. The mouth stays shut and the expression blank; the best I could do today was a closed-mouth smile when my boss came around, and only because I like her. I’ve tried shaking it off by visiting my favorite websites, especially those chronicling the adventures of a certain celebrity (we’ll call her Whitney Beers) and her propensity for doing something stupid every time a person with a camera is nearby. Oh Whitney, when will you ever wise up?
I was hoping The Funk would go away after lunch, but I’m afraid it’s settled in for the day. It brought its favorite paperback novel and is happily re-reading its favorite parts as I write this entry. I suppose we all have days when The Funk comes to visit (not to be confused with Flo who comes to town every 28 days), and it is entirely in our control how we choose to react to The Funk. Me? I’m attempting to block out The Funk by focusing on my work. If that still doesn’t help, I’ll need to watch reruns of The Office tonight and hope it goes away. Because honestly, who doesn’t enjoy watching the antics of one Dwight K. Schrute?
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