Do you know what I did today? I mean, really, do you know? Because I don’t. What day is it?
This long weekend really threw me. I was happy to have it, don’t get me wrong. It’s really nice to have a day off, even working half time. Figuring out how to fit four hours of work into every day is more stressful than I imagined it would be. I’m not losing any sleep over it or anything, except that’s not true. I AM losing sleep over it because I get up extra early to get a couple of hours done before John has to get to work.
I don’t think that’s what I meant to write about because what I DID mean to write about is that I don’t have anything to write about. Which is a really boring thing to write about because if I really don’t have anything to write about, I shouldn’t write at all. EXCEPT that I’ve been on a roll these last couple of months, only missing two or three days, and I’m feeling the pressure.
Also, I TOTALLY had something else to write about, but I forgot what it was sometime in the last paragraph.
I am going to bed before this gets any worse.
Every day is the same. And holidays and weekends are meaningless anyway when you’re retired, but we have nothing anymore to mark the days of the week. Everybody says the same thing. It’s the very definition of limbo.