Not living for the weekend...

I think the hardest part I've had with adjusting to the move out to Vermont, is dealing with the crippling boredom.  This place likely has all sorts of things to do, I'm just not able to do them.  Whether it's money, time, the required toys, or even just the knowledge of where these things are, I'm just on the outside of all the fun.

I spend each week as thus:

Monday through Friday: Up a dawn, go to work, get home at 4pm.  Do the dishes, clean up the house a bit, maybe start a game or something.  Shannon comes home, we sit at the computer until she goes to bed, then I may or may not go to bed and sleep.

Saturday: Up, take out the trash/catbox, do dishes, and am usually given the weekend chores: clean this room/build this.  On occasion, we might go out shopping (which is seriously, my highlight of some days).  Usually it's because she needs something, or we're out of food.

Sunday: Same as Saturday, minus the trash.  Although Shannon goes to bed earlier on Sunday, because she has work in the morning.

This is my life up here... no where on that list is "go see something new" or "find out about someplace in Vermont", not even "use those free movie tickets you've had for five months."

My wife says that if I'm bored, I could go outside and clean up the yard, while she plants things. 

I don't want to go outside and clean, I don't like gardening.  In fact gardening in general is one of my least favorite things.  Growing crops? Awesome.  Growing enough crops to feed us once or twice? Not so awesome.  She can have a garden, and once I get the help that was offered, I'll build the garden bed for her, but I'm not a gardener.

Every so often we go out with her friends from Vermont, or we go out with her friends from NH.  We've yet to ever make plans for my friends, despite the fact that my friends do different things than "get drunk, drive in a circle for hours, break something and be sexist."  My friends don't ask if I can bring my married friend so they can pretend they have a chance with her for five hours.

I'm bored, I spend my days wandering my house, moving little things around.  I swear this is how serial killers are born, that or the most boring people imaginable.  I used to have stories, things that I did that people found hard to believe. 

I climbed mountains, fought in battles, trained fighters, visited crazy and interesting places, traveled to places that few had ever seen.  I took six hour trips to see something.  My world was huge and filled with wonder and adventure...

... now my world is five rooms and a job where I stand in a box for hours. 

I haven't seen the night sky from the forest in months.  Nor the way water freezes in on a mountain river.  I've not seen a challenge beyond summoning up the energy to pick up my shoes.  The battle of my life rages on, but I'm no longer there, I'm somewhere else.

I feel I used to be so much more.