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Entry tags:
Sigh
My brain is problematic.
I went to meeting this morning. Had no trouble getting out of the car and going into the Hall. Made it through the first half, the public discourse, with no real trouble (well, other than the sister behind me alerting me to a small spider on the top of my head, which she helped me remove. Poor spider died in the process, though). Second half, the Watchtower study, I started getting bored.
Bored is not a good thing for me. I get bored, I get destructive. If I'm bored and I have a screwdriver (the tool, not the drink), things tend to come apart. In this case, however, no screwdriver. Not even a pen so I can scribble other things in the margins. There's nothing I can do but focus on how bored I am...and then I get frustrated. I start pulling on my hair, or scratching my arms, or hitting my palms. Matt recognizes these signs by now, so when I put my magazine on the chair next to me and leaned forward, hands digging in my hair, he got into his pocket and gave me the car keys.
Now, I have a notebook and pen in the car, primarily for recording gas mileage, but I also use it to scribble notes when I don't have my other notebook with me. So I started to scribble some ideas that were bugging me, but my intestines had other ideas. Didn't want to go back into the Hall to use their bathroom, so home it was. Now I need to head back there in a few minutes to pick Matt up.
I guess I just needed a more intriguing article today than "Jehovah is Our Shepherd." Sheep are annoying.
I went to meeting this morning. Had no trouble getting out of the car and going into the Hall. Made it through the first half, the public discourse, with no real trouble (well, other than the sister behind me alerting me to a small spider on the top of my head, which she helped me remove. Poor spider died in the process, though). Second half, the Watchtower study, I started getting bored.
Bored is not a good thing for me. I get bored, I get destructive. If I'm bored and I have a screwdriver (the tool, not the drink), things tend to come apart. In this case, however, no screwdriver. Not even a pen so I can scribble other things in the margins. There's nothing I can do but focus on how bored I am...and then I get frustrated. I start pulling on my hair, or scratching my arms, or hitting my palms. Matt recognizes these signs by now, so when I put my magazine on the chair next to me and leaned forward, hands digging in my hair, he got into his pocket and gave me the car keys.
Now, I have a notebook and pen in the car, primarily for recording gas mileage, but I also use it to scribble notes when I don't have my other notebook with me. So I started to scribble some ideas that were bugging me, but my intestines had other ideas. Didn't want to go back into the Hall to use their bathroom, so home it was. Now I need to head back there in a few minutes to pick Matt up.
I guess I just needed a more intriguing article today than "Jehovah is Our Shepherd." Sheep are annoying.