I have the MALAISE.
According to my online medical reference, "Malaise is a generalized feeling of discomfort, illness, or lack of well-being. It can be associated with a disease. Malaise can be accompanied by a feeling of exhaustion, or of not having enough energy to accomplish usual activities." The Malaise in my case is accompanied more by "a feeling of not having anything fun to do, of disgust that there are no good movies out when I am on vacation, or of not having an interest in doing handy projects around the house." Notice the capital M of my Malaise, as if it's a supervillain to be defeated.
My husband made an announcement earlier this morning: "I need to know what you are planning to do every hour of the day today, to ensure you are fighting the Malaise. No sitting around in your pajamas like a zombie! What will you be doing between 8:15am and 9am?" I just stared at him blankly since I have the Malaise already.
At 9am he came to check on me (no doubt to propel me into the next hour's exciting non-malaisical activity). "OK, OK," I said. "I am supposed to be blogging once a week, maybe I will try that." He approved, then presented a fine example of "fighting the Malaise" himself by retreating in his pajamas to a perch in front of the TV watching the Food Network.
Maybe the Malaise is simply the grown-up version of I-don't-have-anything-to-dooooooooooo, which I see often enough in my own child. "You must have the rot-brain from watching too much TV," I tell her when she breaks out with the whining. Is it possible that I too have rot-brain (after years of even more TV or other brain stimulation)?
There's plenty of stuff that I should be/could be doing: half-finished paintings in the art room, surround-sound speakers to be mounted, home movies to be edited into works of greatness. The Malaise is the mortal enemy of effort, of productivity. "Come rest here in the hammock," beckons the Malaise if thoughts of housework and errands rise too close to the surface. "Later you can sort the Legos and take the dog to be washed, there's plenty of time left in the day. That book you got for Christmas is kind of boring and Spiderman-3 got terrible reviews, don't bother trying those. And anyway, what's the rush? It's not like there's anything FUN to do."
Yesterday, before the Malaise was up to full speed around here, I got dressed and told my husband "I'm going out." He shot me a look that said Oh Really? "That's right," I responded. "I'm going out...uh...somewhere. And I don't know when I'll be back." Another look, then he blandly said "Good for you." 10 minutes later, he found me in my pajamas on the couch with the Malaise.
It's 9:36am already, only 24 minutes until he comes back around to ask what I'm doing between 10am and 11am.