not one of my better weekends
April 27, 2015

Friday, I was done out of my nap because I had to get all of the laundry caught up and get a haircut, so I could have Saturday free to go to Dad's. Really could have used it, too--the work week was awfully intense.

Couldn't fall asleep or stay asleep worth a damn on Friday night, due to dreading Saturday. And I had to get up early on Saturday, take a long drive, endure what I covered in the previous post (while Spouse & his bad back did extensive cleanup and tech support on Dad's PC), take a long drive back, grocery shop, come home, put everything away, shower the filth off, and fix some dinner.

Crashed at 8:45 Saturday night, got nine hours of sleep, woke up, did another load of wash (the laundry never stops!), groomed the dog (claws clipped paw fuzz trimmed, ears cleaned, face washed, teeth scrubbed, and coat brushed out).

Once Spouse got up, we made breakfast, and I cleaned up the mess & gave the kitchen its weekly scrubbing while Spouse went out back and picked up after the dog. Then we ran a few errands, cleaned the Buick inside and out, and came home. Where I crashed again--I spent the whole afternoon in bed, reading and dozing, feeling to used up to do anything else. Got up about 5:00, fed the dog, made a pick-up dinner, and spent the evening zoned out on the laptop.

What a shitty weekend.

I have a zillion things I want to do--I want to finish cleaning out my OWN basement, get my workshop set up down there, fiddle with my pens, work on my sewing skills, plan and execute this year's contemplation garden, exercise, eat right, mow the lawn...

I just don't seem to be able to summon the energy and focus to do them. By the time I get everything done that has to be done in any given day, I want to collapse and die, not work on a project. In fact, I'm usually not even close to having everything done when the urge to collapse hits. So the last few items take me way past any resolve I may have had as to spending quality time with myself, to the point where I don't have any choice but to drop in my tracks.

I wish I had an idea of how many more years I have to be here. Maybe it would be easier if I had a countdown clock to remind me that I don't have to live forever.

I don't know. Maybe it would make things worse.

Probably would. Most things do.