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Monday, August 24, 2015

Don't Hit the Button

So here's the deal....

I wasn't feeling too hot towards the end of last week. I'd come off almost four weeks of extensive work travel, late nights, early flights, interacting with people 24 hours a day for days on end, etc. which takes a toll on me. I was worn out, finding it hard to muster the mental capacity to get anything done, and feeling sad about some things. Yuck!

Keep in mind I knew this was coming. It always does when you have the type of schedule I do and a particularly crazy period rears its ugly head. I plan, I tell myself it's going to happen, I even alert the people around me, but nothing really make you feel better when it all does go to hell in a hand-basket except sleep and time.

In my moody stupor I wrote a post last week that was intended to be published today. Thank God I've learned over the years to not hit "publish" until I at least let myself sleep on it for a night. It wasn't all bad, here's a particularly funny part if I do say so myself.

If you find yourself at Chez Fitzgerald there will be other outward signs of my need for a reset button as well. 

Exhibit 1: There will be a full load of dishes in the dishwasher, soap in the thingy that holds the soap but I will have forgotten to turn it on. 

Exhibit 2: My still-unpacked suitcase from last week’s trip will be lying in a heap in the corner of my bedroom. 

Exhibit 3: The entire contents of my bathroom cabinet are on the sink, not in the cabinet, whose sole purpose in life is to hold all of the things that you would normally leave strewn about on the sink so you don’t have to leave them strewn about on the sink! 

But the rest, not so much. Did writing it help me feel better? Absolutely. But should I publish it for the world to see? No.

I did have a very nice weekend and got some good sleep and sunshine so I'm feeling all recovered. Did I mention I have a 6:30am flight to Boston tomorrow?! Just up and back for the day so I'll manage. 

I will leave you with the actual ending of that post I wrote last week. I think it's a fitting end to today's as well. Another one of the salvageable sections. As I'm sure you can extrapolate, you were in for volumes of soul-searching. Better left between me and The Ferryman. He'll let me know how much I owe when I see him. 

I will next see you, my readers, Wednesday with some fun pics from Boston...

just listen….

There’s a little voice inside….

Today she is scattered. Her thoughts are jumbled, her prose without direction (thanks for hangin in)….

Today she is still a little worn out and maybe needs a good cry (God, I love a good cry)….

Today she’s mad because her photos seem stale and lifeless, carbon copies of better ones she’s taken….

Today she feels like crap because she ate a non-disclosed amount of boneless chicken wings and potato wedges from Buffalo Wild Wings last night (I think maybe 20% of what I ate was actual food the rest was chemicals and processed junk and maybe it’s because I’m getting older, but I swear to God I can feel how bad my body feels today because of it. It tasted sooooo goooood though! NO, STOP IT!).

Today she needs some hot tea and a cuddle with Miss Austen…

Tomorrow she will feel better…..

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