Tuesday, November 1, 2011

While I Was Away

Ninth day in a row at work. Before that, two and a half weeks so ill that any time not spent at work was spent flat on my back in bed, most often too weak even to hold up a book.

That's a solid month, and that's enough time out of anyone's life to lose your sense of direction, even if you weren't lost to begin with.

In some ways, it makes knowing what to do with my time off a lot easier. I need to work outside, putting my yard to bed for the winter, getting the ornaments into the garage, that kind of thing. But I've got the whole weekend for that. Instead, I will use tomorrow as a Day of Decompression: sleep in as long as I like (I don't care if it's until noon), read, catch up on some unwritten or partially written posts (there's a new DVD release that I particularly want to burble at you about: yes, it really is the greatest thing since sliced bread!), maybe veg out in front of a movie, spend some time indoors with the cats (who are acting Deeply Needy lately).

The question of what to do with the rest of my life can wait a while longer. I'm too tired to worry about it.

-- Freder.

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