And it's not even a Monday

I've been going through an "I-hate-my-work-I-want-to-resign" phase lately.

I think it's because for one thing, I don't think the constant stress and adrenaline rushes (which I used to enjoy, mind you) that come with magazine work are good for my fertility. I really need to stop whizzing around and start relaxing more.

For another, the issue that I'm working on now is particularly tougher to put together. Subjects are hard to find and much harder to pin down, and nothing seems to go smoothly. Because there are two types of stress: there's the fun kind, when you know you're being challenged and you know it's just a matter of time before the matter gets resolved. But then there's also the kind of stress that leaves you thinking "Why the hell am I putting up with this?" Lately, it's more of the latter.

I know I have no right to complain of burnout, considering I've taken more vacations or working-vacations this first quarter of the year than in my whole life. But I think that's precisely what's bugging me... in spite of all these breaks, I'm still feeling.... bleh. I really think it's the baby thing.

I think the only thing stopping me from quitting right now (which everyone from Eric to my OB-Gyne agrees with) is I know there'll come a time when I'll get bored just staying in the house. I'm not sure if it's human nature; maybe it's just me, but I'm the type who can only laze around for maybe a couple of days... two week, tops. After that, I need something stimulating to do, or I'd literally be climbing the walls.

So unless I get knocked up soon.... or Eric volunteers to take me on a month-long sojourn in Europe...or I can come up with a part-time business to get into... I think I'm stuck here a little while longer.

On the other hand, all these could also just be a "Can't-wait-for-Holy-Week" phase...