Do you take weekends off?
Don’t think I’m proud of that.
This evening, Dave and I relaxed on the patio with glasses of wine in hand. I’d taken a couple hours to clean the grill and cook the magnificent supper pictured at left.
As we enjoyed the memory of our meal, I asked Dave if he’d heard back from the HVAC guy.
“Nah,” he said. “It’s the weekend.”
“Well,” I replied, “if you called me about a job that you needed done by Thursday, and it was the weekend, I’d damn well call you back.”
Is that the right answer?
Is there a right answer?
Before I had Sam, I looked forward to holidays because they meant I could work without interruption.
Now…well, holidays aren’t quite the same.
I’m posting on a Saturday.
I didn’t mean to post on a Saturday. I got busy. I missed my second post this week. I considered skipping it.
But then the shame came. The shame of not living up to my own ideas of who I am.
That particular shame cuts both ways.
The introvert charger.
I recently suggested that someone should invent an introvert charger. Just plug yourself in and get your mojo back after a week of wretched PEOPLE.
My friend Kimberly said, “I’m already doing this. I’m sitting outside with a glass of wine.”
I’m not going to tell you to put. down. the. cellphone. Although maybe you should.
Maybe just for today.