I crave silence. I need a certain amount of time to just be by myself. When that is interrupted, I get upset.
That’s why I’ve really started to love my Mondays off. I’m by myself. I can read, sleep, clean, exercise, do housework, shop, go on an adventure by myself…the point is I can do whatever I want, and I don’t have to answer to anyone.
This (past) weekend was really great.
I’m struggling with feeling disappointed in someone. I know everyone makes mistakes. I have certainly made my fair share of poor decisions, but I also clean up my own messes. I don’t rely upon other people to fix my problems, and I guess that’s the reason I’m frustrated. You broke it. Go fix it.
I’ve read 45 out of 50 books for the 2015 reading goal I set for myself. I really enjoyed the one I just finished: Daughters Unto Devils. But now I’m in that weird limbo period where I just can’t decide what to read next. This causes me far more anxiety than it should, but it’s because I won’t stop reading a book even when it sucks. I have to finish it. So selection is very important.
I want to get back into running, but I feel so out of sorts.
And I just feel so unwell so much of the time.
I have a list of things to accomplish today, because it’s the first day of Operation Give A Fuck.
Five more hours until I am reunited with my kid. Can’t. Wait.
