I thought about taking a lawn chair out into the backyard today and sitting in the sunlight for a bit. It might have been nice for a little while, too. But that would have meant watching out for poop, and sinking up to my knees in wet, pebbly snow, and my weight would have pushed the legs of the chair down until my butt was touching, at which point my body heat would be melting the surface and I’d end up wet.
Maybe I’ll try it tomorrow. Oh, no, wait — it’s going to be -3C in the afternoon, with flurries.
I may be crazy, but I’m not quite that crazy.
I woke up at 3 am this morning, welling up with anxiety over this Ottawa ComicCon trip. I’d sent out an email to several male staff members I thought might be interested in chaperoning, and at 3 am, that suddenly felt like an enormously ridiculous thing to have done. Laid and obsessed over that for a good half an hour before I managed to fall back asleep. Then I woke up again at 6, and the pattern repeated. I ended up sleeping in until around 11, and because hubby was making a lovely breakfast of eggs, bacon, and hash browns, the scent of it cooking on the stove made me dream about stuffing my mouth full of bacon before I actually woke up.
Despite my great list of things to do — finishing edits, marking, cleaning — I didn’t do much today other than sleeping and self-loathing. Got a bit weepy. I blame the long winter and my own laziness. Cuddled much with hubby and children, though; played with Bridget’s hair, trying out some braiding, and did some knitting. But the house is even more cluttered now that Bridget chose to rip apart a cardboard box while playing with her Barbies. The dolls gained a house, while the living room gained a new layer of messiness.
Hoping tomorrow is better.
Tori L. Ridgewood 