I know the feeling.

I’m not sure what’s causing me to feel like a claustrophobe in my own life, but I’m getting restless and I’m getting irritable. I think it’s a combination of mundane routine, my own tendencies toward disquietude, and a complete lack of financial freedom to do anything other than nothing.

I get up, I go to work, I come home, watch TV or read a book, and then I do it all over again. Occasionally, I muster up enough blasé distain for the state of my checkbook (or a complete state of denial), and go out anyway. Of course, this never ends well, as eventually, either my conscience or debt collectors catch up to me.

And so I now find myself wrapped up in this dispassionate cycle of everyday life that leaves me depressed and bored beyond the telling of it.

Every now and then (with a frequency that’s disturbing), it’ll all catch up to me and I’ll snap. Occasionally at someone in my own little ménage, and usually when they don’t really deserve it. I’m turning moody and sulky, and I don’t like it.

I know there are few people out there that live lives of constant intrigue and excitement, and those that do probably wish for the mundane. But I feel literally saturated with ennui, and I can’t take much more.

I’m beginning to forget what a halcyon life is like.