To paraphrase both Pink and the Monty Python crew from the Meaning of Life.
I pulled through the weekend, but only after I ended up leaving work early to return home to cuddle a hot water bottle and nurse copious amounts of mint tea. I’m feeling better, hungry even. It’s nice to eat and actually appreciate the food, not viewing it as some sort of nebulous enemy waiting to ambush me.
I wrote this morning, at work, a page, and then the daily grind of calls. It can get hard, listening to people yell at you, argue with you, demand the ridiculous, and expect the impossible. The normal people I get to speak with? A blessing in every sense of the world.
By the way, if one more person asks me what they are supposed to do with their kids when the TV is out, I will tell them.
They won’t like my answers and I will get fired soon after, but it will be worth it.
My weekend is fast approaching. I’m trying to give away my Friday shift, making it a 3-day weekend, the likes of which I do not get anymore thanks to my job, which will be spent solo. Todd heads out for his trip to Tremblant so it will be me and the cat and the dog. I want to have a couple of really good writing days and plan to take advantage of having the car to do that writing in some different locations – William’s with it’s wonderful chai tea lattes, the Starbucks in the Chapters, possibly even the university library, since I seem to be setting Spirit Cat in a fantasy version of Sudbury. I haven’t been there in ages, and I think I need to freshen up my memories so I can do a better job describing and re-imagining.
So here’s to a better ‘weekend’ ahead.