Instead of packing the weekend full of things, I took a page from my own book and stopped to smell the flowers. I (mostly) kept the computer turned off and maybe didn’t cross off enough things from my ever-growing to-do list but we managed to make it to Monday without incident. All is still well(ish) with the world.
There have been so many times in life when I allowed my anxiety to dictate how—and when—I see my friends. This weekend I acknowledged its presence, but I didn’t feed the monster. It made a world of difference.
I drove with the windows open, on one of the most glorious fall afternoons in recent memory, blasting Kesha’s new album (don’t judge, guys. It is so good). I finished a book of poetry (my first in more years than I’d care to admit). We took this little goober to the vet and he is getting much needed relief from allergy season (poor guy).
I saw my parents and drank too much wine on the porch with my mom. I watched a painfully unfunny animated special about David S Pumpkins with my parents because we all thought it was a regular episode of Saturday Night Live. I saw my friends and celebrated a new home and pregnancy. I laughed until my face hurt and was glad no one teased me when I explained that I needed to leave before nightfall because I can’t see, like some weird Cinderella with a self-imposed curfew and a Honda-shaped pumpkin.
Bryan and I ordered Indian food and watched Shark Tank because we were too lazy to leave on a rain-soaked Sunday. We took care of our pup and gave him lots of snuggles, attention, and a medicated bath.
It was a good weekend; one I was sad to see end. How was yours, sweet friends?
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