Internet, this weekend I did NOTHING.
And it was glorious.
Actually, that is a lie. I did cave and go grocery shopping on my way home from work on Friday. But that is the only responsible, productive thing I did. And the part about it being glorious? That part was not a lie at all.
We played games and rented movies. (Actually TV shows, not movies, as we started watching Alias on DVD. Because we are so totally behind the times, yes we are.) I did not wear anything nicer than gym shorts and flip flops, I did not dry my hair, and I sure as hell didn’t wear any make-up. Truth be told, I really only showered because I am totally in love with my new body wash. It smells really really good.
I think I’m supposed to be sad that we didn’t do anything more exciting for Labor Day weekend. That we didn’t go away somewhere exciting or sit on a beach or party it up. But I’m not in the slightest. It was beyond great to have a few days of doing nothing, especially because work has been a real horror-show lately and while nothing short of a six month long hiatus is going to help that, any time to decompress is really nice.
What? What’s that you say? Why do you bitch endlessly about your job? Why do you continue to do something that you regularly refer to as your own personal hell?
Well, the thing is, I love what I do. It’s just that I don’t love having so much of it to do. Make sense? It’d be like if you really loved Cheetos and that was great because you suddenly had a lot of Cheetos to eat and gee isn’t that nice. But then you were like, whoa, this a is a WHOLE LOT of Cheetos and I don’t think I can handle eating all of these but you had to keep eating them because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to pay your mortgage, and it’s not like you don’t want ANY Cheetos ever again but really, 84328907532 bags of Cheetos is a few too many.
Are you seeing the analogy here?
(Suddenly I am wondering why I didn’t put Cheetos on the grocery list.)
Wait. What was I saying?
Anyway, the point is that work is a little overwhelming and has been for longer than I think is healthy for my stress level. And it was nice not to think about it for three days while all I cared about was the fate of Sydney Bristow. Because I guess when you’re a double agent who gets the crap beat out of herself all the time while having to hide your life from your friends and not get caught at that whole spying business… well that can put anyone else’s stress in perspective.