Three day weekends are a double edged sword. The rest is nice, but I take myself to task for all I haven't done in the seemingly extra time. I become distracted from my usual routine, realizing there is more world out there that I will ever see in one lifetime. I eventually get through the depressed state of mind this realization induces and start trying to figure out how to make this desire a reality, only to get distracted back on task into my work-a-day life by the practical needs presented for fulfillment by both those dreams and the need to survive.
I find myself at the end of another missed opportunity to get out of the house a bit, but am grateful for the rest it has provided. My mind is awake, my body is far less sore than it was on Friday, and I have had the opportunity to write a bit. I miss it, and this break has reminded me exactly how much writing makes me feel better. I've no idea why, I just know that I shouldn't forget the fact.
I've enjoyed the time off, it's been an opportunity to recharge, one that was sorely needed, even if I didn't realize it at first. I'd almost forgotten ( classifed the information in a less accessible portion of my brain, anyway) how wonderful doing nothing can be. No plans, no going anywhere, no catching up on the million and one things I "should" be doing, just living like a couch potato and ignoring the myriad "needs", realizing most of them are simply busywork, and have no real bearing on my existence. Tomorrow it will all come back, rushing in, and I will do the things that need to be done everyday. Tomorrow.
Right now, I have to finish doing nothing.
