You know. For kicks.
There’s something about having a couple days… few days… three days off in a row that makes my body feel like it just doesn’t want to do a blasted thing.
I took this weekend off (normally having Fridays as one of my normal days off) for Erin’s birthday, and, aside from Friday running errands with her, I’ve slept through a lot of it. Oh, sure, we had the “white trash birthday party” last night, but that was more of an intermission to my extended nap time.
It’s like my internal meter just knew that I had a recharge due, and this was the only real time it was going to happen any time soon. Now, I could’ve spent this time writing (preferred), or organizing the office (which would help with the latter, to be sure). But no. Sleep, Rest, Sleep, Nap, Doze, & Sleep. The cats loved it. I didn’t mind it. And Erin, bless her, just left me to it.
Back to work tomorrow, though. I would like to promise that this means more than just the “day job,” but I have the feeling that I’m going to wind up coming home from work and conking out in my comfy chair. Call me a pessimist.
Granted, if my pessimism is limited to worrying that I’m going to be over-rested… I’ll take it.
