My three-day Independence Day extravaganza was definitely a Weekend Off, capitalization and italics most certainly warranted. But this one that just passed? Eh. Even though I was at the Pennsylvania house, it felt more like an off weekend, with my rhythms and routines all out of whack.
Husband and I arrived at the house in what felt like the middle of the night, and I was exhausted. It had been a relentless week of deadlines and work functions, and I was in a sleep deficit, not to mention stressed out about the bag full of work I’d brought with me. Saturday morning, I arose, brushed my teeth and tied my bathrobe on over my underwear–and that would be as dressed as I would get all day. I sat at my laptop and hammered away at emails and marketing plans without pause until 3:30, at which point I laid on the couch and slept until 5:30. I think I made dinner, I know I drank a bottle of Kendall Jackson cab sav, I watched the first three-quarters of The Dark Knight, pining for Bruce Wayne. I came to Pennsylvania for this?
There was still a tidy bundle of work awaiting me in my One Lucky Duck tote, and I could have easily repeated Saturday on Sunday. But I couldn’t bear the thought of another waster. So instead of tying on the bathrobe, I tied on my sneaks and went for a run. I was still enervated, flat. Stop, thief! Someone’s stolen my energy! I only made it 2.49 miles before I looked up the next hill and thought, Umm noo. I trudged damply up it, past some new young-ish neighbor weedwhacking his lawn. Thank god we just have trees. Then, after a stretch and a snack, I began cleaning the house like a woman without a visa. Shower walls, baseboards, sides-of-cabinets, tabletops, forgotten shelves and closet corners. Husband dusted the vaulted windows, and vacuumed every last inch of our sculpted carpeting (can’t wait for a windfall so I can rip that up) like a champ. Matilda watched in amusement, Hee my silly humans. Pillows fluffed, towels arranged. All set for my brother and his family, who will be joining us at the house next week. Truly, all New Yorker nonchalance aside? Can’t wait!
Then it was back at the frindstone, me hunched over the keyboard, completely absorbed in my imprint’s Winter 2010 pubslishing program, cranking it out and buffing it up, imagining my ass getting wider and my tummy getting poochier by the minute. Finally finally it is time to pack the car and head home; Husband patiently drives for three hours (& I catch up on Runner’s World and Running Times from May and June) until some jackass cuts him off on the George Washington Bridge and then all hell breaks loose. He’s yelling at the driver; I’m yelling at him for yelling; and Matilda is whining from the back seat for the two of us to cut it out. C’mon guys. Wroorooloo! At midnight I finally tuck myself into my Sunnyside bed with an Ambien CR and a prayer for sunshine. Monday already?