Guess where the packet is? Still in fucking transit. There’s been no updates since Saturday afternoon’s departure from Calgary. I refresh the page obsessively because their real-time tracking and notification system fucking sucks.
But overall, aside from rough points, the weekend was ok. Mentally, the mornings are so much easier than the evenings. I wake up, and I write up my morning post with a purring cat lounging in my lap. The day has so much potential. Sometimes I do a workout. By mid-afternoon, it becomes more obvious that there’s been no progress. As the the day goes on, the mood lowers, the anxiety rises, and I become stir crazy. I want to do something but there’s nothing. NOTHING.
I can’t clean anything else. Not only because I’m JUST FUCKING DONE, but because I simply refuse to spend more money on cleaning supplies. I rattle around the empty house until bedtime when I’m getting ready to tuck myself into the floor. I’ve been writing for at least three weeks now, “let’s hope this is the last Monday”. I’m so tired of doing nothing because there’s nothing to do INSIDE and and it’s too damned cold to go outside and play outside.
It’s disheartening.
