The beginning of a hot summer day

     I awoke at 5:30 am, unable to sleep any longer.  What does today bring for me?  I placed a cup of yesterday's coffee in the microwave and went outside to smoke.  The fox scurried from my yard towards the woods and a deer reluctantly followed.  I walked around, looking at the plants and weeds I have growing, and thought of all the things I have to do.  I began watering the potted plants and set up the sprinkler for the ones in the ground and apparently the weeds surrounding them.  After a month, I see the deer discovered my sunflowers and on the some leaves were missing while others the entire tops were bitten off.  Pests!  The lawn needs mowed.
     The laundry has piled up, which meant for last week, pulling things from the back of the closet for work.  Clean laundry is piled up on the table by the washer and dryer.  Wrinkled now and only in the case of towels and underwear, needing only folding.  Sigh.  I vacuumed yesterday, but as is usually the case, the dogs seem to purposefully shed on the newly hair-free carpet.  I hate this carpet.  I would like to have wood floors.
     I turned on the tv and searched for noninfomercials that may be pleasing to distract me from my to do list or at least allow me to wake a bit before doing something.  I found background noise and went to my facebook.  Renee loves summer.  Hmm... and it is so hot I contemplate a move to Canada or Alaska.  This summer has been a series of plagues and tribulations.  The bees and wasps actually preceded the mosquitos which came in thick following the deluge of rain this summer.  Shortly after the mosquitos, the dragonflies hatched in abundance to eat them.  Poison ivy sprouted early as did my aversion and avoidance of it.  Two weeks ago, (or was it three?) frogs the size of flies jumped to avoid my every step down the driveway.  Yesterday a bat had attached itself to the front of the house.  What next Minnesota?
     I notice guilt in the form of medical bills piling up on the table.  They hide nicely the spot I spilled fingernail polish remover on about a month ago.  Collectors are calling, despite my payments to each of the medical institutions as I am able.  The doctor said I need to stop smoking.  This panics me.  I don't know why.  I am trying to ready myself, but designating a "quit day" is hard for me.  When I tell people, I get advice anywhere from what candy they used to acupuncture.  "Doc Jones" wrote me a prescription for the patch.  No one can tell me how to avoid the emotional crash I experienced the last time I tried.
     Doc Jones is an interesting creature to say the least.  He is a psychiatrist with a plethora of keys on a chain for each institution her serves.  He has an office across from mine though he is scheduled only one day a week there.  He has a fainting couch with blankets in there and an old car or truck door on his wall.  His inherited family doctor bag on the top shelf of his bookcase indicates the title "doc" has also been handed down for generations.  He sports a pony tail in his salt and pepper hair, giving a nod to the early '70s I suppose.  He is always running at 100 mph.  In addition to his psychiatry practice, he has an organic farm.  Who knows where he gets all of the energy to do what he does.  He still dictates his notes, a privilege of his title, I am sure, for the rest of us type our own.  At times he is short and curt, others he is jovial and sarcastic.    
     Yesterday I went to the Celtic Festival put on by Doc Jones at St. Matthias farm here in Brainerd.  It was sparsely populated with what appeared to be some of the more "different" people of the area - me included.  The smell of the peat burning lingered in my nose this morning.  The beer was cheap, but not quite cold enough to have two.  The music was good and two used books relating to Ireland joined my stacks of bills on the coffee table.  There.  Now I don't have to dust.
     After I poured my second cup of yesterday's coffee, I realized I needed to brew another pot for today.  Grumble.  I was not that ambitious.  Fatal loop.  Need liquid ambition to provide ambition for making another pot.  Hmm... I guess I will have to feign ambition for now.
     I know I need to go to work to get my stuff to work at home.  I just don't feel like showering but should in case I run into someone else just as behind in their work as I am.  I have several diagnostic assessments to do.  I get to label people so the insurance companies will pay for their therapy.  My new supervisor insists I write novels for each one as well as their treatment plans.  We get paid for one and one-half hours per DA and nothing for the treatment plan.  Even the most seasoned of therapists spends at least two hours on each.  I have been told there are people with jobs that actually don't spend their days off working.  That sounds wonderful.  I have also been told those hours accruing on my paycheck can be used for vacation.  That's an interesting notion but has a negative impact on productivity.
     I suppose I better get off my couch and be productive today.  I know I can't get caught up, but can pursue being less behind in my work at home and in my profession.  Do I really want to go to law school?  Still thinking about it.  I realize the sooner I start the sooner I will be done.  Right now I need more of a social life, or time occupiers, but can I handle that stress?  Perhaps I will ponder studying for the LSAT and see if it interests me.  They say it isn't what you know, but how you think that will get you through.  Still pondering as I pace through my rut...