There is something so lovely about having your house all to yourself, with no husband or small, loud child around to distract you from wandering about in your pajamas, or demanding you share your food with them, or insisting that if you’re going to lie down, they’re going to come with you.
I called in today due to the less than 3 hours I got of sleep last night, which happens sometimes. The hamster in my brain won’t stop running on her little wheel and I end up tossing and turning for entirely too long before i give up and go downstairs and read Supernatural and Glee fanfiction until I can finally fall over.
I like it here.
Sorry, no transition there, but. I like it here. And that’s new. To like where I am and what I’m doing. To not feel like going to sleep makes the next day come earlier. To not feel like I have a target painted on my back for who-knows-what-stupid-reason.
So in some ways, I hate that I called in today – that I took a day from something I’m actually enjoying.
In other ways, I don’t have to share my ice cream or my blankets. And that’s just fine with me.
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