It’s called being listless, baby.
I think I’ll wash the same dishes. I think I’ll pace the yard rereading all of the books I have already read and not making it more than a couple of chapters in, because… [insert distracted thoughts]
I think I will lay in my now-ritualistic bathtub and daydream about every trail or mountaintop I have traversed and daydream, filled as I am with pent-up springtime go-get-em.
It’s called being listless.
And now I run and walk around the neighborhood every chance I can get, under any pretext. Pacing my territory. I do jumping jacks to get the nervous out of my nervous system so that maybe I can take a nap which is called a break from the conscious unknowing.
If there’s one thing I learned from Hollywood prison scenarios, it’s this. Stay sharp, stay fit, hit the books. Because when you finally get out it’ll be time to kick ass.