So Friday had an unexpected climax.
I spent most of the day working--trying hard to catch up with ALL THE THINGS that don't get done when you're on a trip. My friend Berry Jello texted and asked if we wanted to go see her daughter in a local haunted house--and of course we did.
We did not expect it to take 3 1/2 hours of standing--not walking, standing--out of our lives.
Like, my thighs and calves were cramping so badly I almost couldn't walk through the haunted house.
The hard thing was, we didn't want to leave--she'd promised her daughter she'd come see her, and that's a promise you don't break, and Squish and Chicken and I knew that when we agreed to go on that ride.
I tried not to whine too hard--and it helped that I found a couple of breakfast bars that had been through multiple airports and were at that "easy sharing" stage. (i.e., they were in little pieces inside their wrappers.)
But it did sort of knock me out that night--not as much writing as I'd hoped.
Anyway--Saturday was walking the dogs and soccer--Mate and I were both exhausted by the time it was done, and today?
Well, it was supposed to just be taking Squish to the craft store, and I was looking forward to it all weekend. But I was tired, and I'd had to get T to do laundry and I didn't feel well and... *whine*
I was just out of gas. No real time last week to rest up from my trip, you know? No long naps. No extended moments sitting in front of the television, thinking, "Oh, yes... boredom... now I remember..."
So as Sunday draws to a close, and I try to make my word count, I'm sort of depressed.
I wanted to be more rested than this.
I want to have my craft book close to done so I could start on Paint it Black Thursday sharp, and honestly, I'm falling asleep at 11.
Maybe I'll go to bed early tonight and hope for some more sleep tomorrow.
It really couldn't hurt, you know?