Sunday, August 21
The last weekends of summer are flying by (no doubt helped by copious amounts of liquor and hanging out with my friends). I'm always a little sad at this point in the season, like I haven't done enough, haven't enjoyed my summer enough. The truth is, this year, I haven't. There was a lot to do -- work was kind of crazy and my little sister got married -- so there really was no time for vacation. I snuck away for a few days here and there, but I haven't been able to string together any serious down time. This weekend, however, I got to laze away some serious time on my porch. I finally finished reading Chronicles yesterday -- and then I promptly took a nap in the sun. I watched Ada, Leigh's wee dog, and Sam, too (Jen's slightly less wee dog). I chilled again on the back porch today and did some serious damage to Stone's book. (I had to laugh out loud when I read a quote from myself. I'd forgotten I'd even said that.)
That said, general sports anxiety is what has given me a little more free time. The Sox are currently in first, which is just freaking me out. Plus, I'm a little pissed that they let go of the Bell. I'm just taking a little space between me and my boys, you know, some time to heal. (That doesn't keep me from being delighted with the t-shirt Jen brought me back from her weekend in P-town.) The WNBA play-off race is in full force, and I can't handle it. (I want the Mystics in, and the Shock out. I want Minnesota in, and the Sparks out. Everything else, I don't care.) Tonight is the series finale of Six Feet Under, and I don't know how I'm going to handle it. Really, when did TV become so stressful?
And when did it become so hot that I have to wear pigtails?
posted @ 5:14 PM |
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