Better, today. The weekend was good.
Good like a rollercoaster (up, down, touch the ground…) but good. Would I say it ended on a high note? More, it ended at a point where the highs had overtaken the lows, by a considerable margin.
The weekend always ends on a low note, though. Monday is the day everyone (except me) goes back to work, the kids usually go back to school (not this week, which I admit, does lift my mood from what it might otherwise be) and I’m just there, all alone in my aloneness.
I really am a bit pathetic this year, lol. Last year *I* had work to do, though. I had essays to write and chapters to read and tutorials to attend. This… gah. It’s not just loneliness, it’s idleness. I’m sure I used to *like* having nothing to do… maybe I’m getting more industrious as I age? More frightened by the ticking-clock sound of my own mortality, more like. 31 is not old, but it’s not young, either. And of all the things I set out to do, at the start of my adult life… well, no. I’m doing alright with some of them (she says, casting a fond eye at her children).
Of course, there’s always that novel I’m writing, as well. What’s stopping me from working on that, after all?