Play is my work... and I still find ways to complain.

Tomorrow is Monday. Work. I enjoy my job, I really do... but I don't seem to enjoy working as much as I enjoy NOT working.

My wife and I run a daycare from our home. We watch twelve kids (three of them are our own) and they're all great. They know the routine, they know the rules. I really like my job. But something's not... right. Something is tightening inside of me and it feels like it could snap soon.

From time to time I feel like punching total strangers in the face with a bus, but that isn't what I'm talking about. It's more like...

I rarely leave my house. The few people I see face-to-face, I smother. I practically live on Facebook. I need something other than the microcosm inside my house. It makes me eat all the time, it makes me want to go out and buy things I neither need nor want, it makes me anxious and unpleasant and lazy and rude.

Tomorrow is Monday. And I won't be leaving the house. Then it will be Tuesday. I won't be leaving the house. Then it will be Wednesday. Then Thursday. Then Friday.

I'm disappearing inside my own home. How depressing is that?

Thank you,
Matt Beers