I went to bed just a bit later than I usually do - it's a treat for me to get to stay up late. (I sometimes think I'm regressing - the last time my bedtime was so closely monitored, I was eleven!) When I woke up in the morning, instead of hopping out of bed, I had the leisure to lay there and take my time in waking. For thirty, forty-five minutes I drifted between sleep and wakefulness, dreams blending with my waking worries in bizarre fashion.
And, to ice the cake, I did almost nothing yesterday. When I finally got up, I exercised, then went to sit on the porch with a good book. And then, I... Oh, wait. I didn't anything. I didn't DO much of anything else all day. And it was a delightful feeling. It's been a long time since I took time to just sit and read. The weather was perfect, with a light breeze. The bugs weren't biting, the shade was inviting, the view when I looked up from my book, refreshing.
Work's been nonstop since I returned to town, and my house is turning into a money pit. I've been tired and stressed and going and going and going. I had a hard time convincing me to stop even for part of the weekend. The to-do list is long and a lot of it needs to be done before winter. I've been caught up in doing, and I forget I need time to just be.
So, it's good to remind myself to stop, breathe and relax. Because if I don't, no one is going to want to spend any time in my company - including me.