Whininess ensues

I don't want to go to work today. I don't want to get up and eat breakfast and braid my hair and put on professional looking clothes and contact lenses. I don't want to talk to people, I don't want to be responsible and make important decisions and think. I don't want to be the doctor. I don't want to smile and act mature.

I want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head and drift in and out of sleep. I want my cats and my stuffed Totoro. And when I do get up, I want to spend the entire day in my pajamas watching Animal Planet, burrowed into the sofa.

I went to work yesterday. I shouldn't have to go today. And I know tomorrow is my day off, but I don't want to do this tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll probably want to go in to work to check on cases, or walk to the library. I'm tired of schedules. I'm tired of being grown up.

But it's not as if I have a choice. So I'll go. I'll put on the horrid khaki pants and a nice shirt instead of my comfy tie-dyed nightshirt. I'll pack something resembling a lunch, and an extra soda. I'll smile when I talk, and try not to sound like a sulky teenager. I'll hide the little stuffed lamb my boyfriend gave me in my lunch bag.

They can make me look and act and talk like a grownup, but I'll never surrender completely.