With Apologies to the Wilburys

Been stuck in airports, terrorized
Sent to meetings, hypnotized
Overexposed, commercialized
Handle me with care

I'm so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give
Won't you show me that you really care

~ "Handle With Care" - The Travelling Wilburys
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I've been on a massive Wilburys kick lately.  I've been listening to the big double album practically non-stop for about a week.  Today, I relented somewhat and let Genius make me a mix from one of the songs.  I freaking love the Genius feature on iTunes.  Most of the time, the mixes it comes up with make me much happier than if I'd tried to do it myself.  It's like a little surprise gift every time I click it.

Anyway.

That's not really what I was going to write about.  Maybe it's as good a topic as any.  The continuing rain seems to be blotting out my will to do anything other than slog through the day, float home, and fall down.  Snow is rumored for tonight, but, quite frankly, I'll believe it when I see it.

I'm just tired.  And maybe all I really need is a day where I can see that blue sky.  Maybe it's something far more profound.

Something made me realize today that my birthday is coming up soon.  It comes in on sneaky little cat feet when I'm too busy to pay attention, and then suddenly, BOOM, there it is dancing on my head.  I can't scrape up even the tiniest little bit of enthusiasm for it.  I need to be planning something good, but mostly, I'm just thinking, "37.  Whooptedoo."

There's also the fact that I have no idea what I'd plan.  The actual day is in the middle of a week this time.  I will probably be driving to a city two hours to the north to pick up a carload of Krispy Kreme doughnuts for a fundraiser we're trying to do at school that night since our tentative delivery day is Valentine's Day.  Since I'm in charge of it, I get to do the driving.

I could make a list, I guess, of things I'm going to do as 37 comes, but what belongs on that list?  Maybe a midlife crisis complete with a sports car (okay, yes.  I want one of those for reasons that are not midlifecrisisy.), a twenty-something boyfriend with "an old soul," vast swathes of leopard print, too much alcohol, and not quite enough sense?  Maybe a declaration that this is going to be the start of the year in which I really, truly, finally...  what?  How do I end that sentence? Write the story?  Get the tattoo?  Go back to Brazil/Japan/England?  Learn to play the banjo?  Make another stained glass window?  Finally get all these repairs done on the house?  Really get control of my camera?  Write some poetry that isn't poo-ish? Have electricity or water run to our country shack?   Buy a kiln?  There are so many things hovering in the wings, waiting for me to decide if I'm ever going to do them or not.  The possibles are meeting the actuals, though, and they're not coming off so well in that clash.

I'm just tired.  I'm not afraid of the upcoming birthday.  It doesn't distress me.  It just feels like another one of those things I'll have to take on and deal with, one more stone into the big sack of them I drag around on my back.  That, I guess, is why the lyrics of "Handle With Care" strike such a massive chord with me right now.  I know how they feel.  It is practically my very own personal theme song.

God.

I need some sunshine really badly.