Friday, despite being Halloween, was a bit of a wash — literally. I was too exhausted to do much of anything except have a bath, put on the old jim-jams, and climb into bed with a book. (Which, actually, was really nice.)
Also, I ignored the Trick-or-Treaters, who get really aggressive.
Saturday: Had a swim; had a post-swim coffee; was offered and accepted an article commission*; FOUND MY GLASSES!**; had embarrassing, PMS-fueled toddler-style meltdown over…I’m not even sure what, because hormones; thought a nap might sort me out but it didn’t***; did some desultory housework; prepped honey for bottling; worked on a grant application; ate pizza with My Fella whilst watching Flea Market Flip, which deserves its own post; eventually wore myself out and crashed.
Sunday: (Despite time change) woke up at ungodly hour to tend to flock; acquiesced to demands of demanding puppy BEFORE coffee; enjoyed delicious breakfast, courtesy of My Fella; submitted grant application and had panic attack when I realized I might have made one tiny error (to revise a phrase: details are the devil); mailed stuff; accompanied Fella to Ollie’s, which also deserves its own post****; finished bottling honey; planted three trees in the yard; completed (my portion of) group project for Night School, which is real, y’all*****; and other stuff, I think. eventually wore myself out and crashed. Do you see a pattern emerging?
Also, I decided that as of November 1, I am on an in-law hiatus, scheduled to last anywhere between 12 and 18 months. It’s not animosity, it’s exhaustion: their nonsense would be highly entertaining to watch on Bravo, but is tedious and crazy-making to experience in real life. I really, really just need a break from these folks.
If any of them happen to notice (unlikely) and decide to get on my case (possible), perhaps via text message (likely), I’ll never know. Because I blocked every f*cking contact in my phone and it was amazing.
Mary J. Blige and I have virtually nothing in common, but we do share a desperate desire for NO MORE DRAMA.
And that, unless I’m mistaken (which I could be) was my weekend.