I’ve been lolling about all day — made myself some drop biscuits (good warm, with jam) and tea for lunch, caught up on Hulu queue, getting ready to make some pasta and watch Nick & Nora’s Infinite Playlist before finishing Mockingjay and falling asleep early. Maybe even a hot bubble bath somewhere in the mix.
I’ve had a busy two weeks, and I’ve pushed myself past my physical limits. This is me taking care of myself, knowing what makes me feel better and lingering in it. Some people might think it’s depressing, but it’s a relief — being able to soothe and be kind to myself. I didn’t always know how to do that, and I filled my days and weeks up with food and people and alcohol and other substances, thinking one or all of them would be my panacea.
My house may need to be cleaned and there may be dishes in the sink (and I might not have gone to the laundromat since early August), but all of that is just window dressing. Tomorrow, I’ll get up and pick up B and go to a meeting and eat donuts and drink coffee and have fun playing board games and baking cookies… and it’s okay. Everything is just as it’s supposed to be. And tonight, that means staying in and watching a movie while eating penne. You might call it a funk. I call it progress.