No trips to the southern tier this weekend. No plans to visit Bob and Wanda (they live an hour away, too). We went to bed last night around 11:00. I’d had a glass of wine and, with the new meds I’m on, it hit me hard. (I’m on an anti-seizure medication now, which is supposed to have some success in treating RLS…we’ll see.) Anyway, we went to bed, Tigga curled up with Lisa on one side, me on the other, and Simba at our feet. Crashed and burned.
I woke up this morning, looked at the clock, and saw that it was 9:30. Shrugged my shoulders, snuggled up against Lisa’s back, put my arm around her, and that was the last conscious thought I had until the phone rang. It was Mary next door, inviting herself over for coffee. It was 11:15. I’m usually up by 8:00, 9:00 at the latest on weekends. Clearly I’m exhausted. Or was.
We were going to go to the 1:00 matinee showing of Brokeback Mountain but just didn’t feel like going out anywhere. It was a shame, really, that it was 50 degrees and sunny, and we stayed inside all day but that’s what we felt like doing. We did some cleaning and rearranging of furniture, and have decided we’re going to rent a couple of PPV’s tonight (Fantastic Four and War of the Worlds). We’re just in the mood for something that’s not terribly intellectual and that we don’t have to think too much through. *shrug*
I promised myself no phone calls today. None to Wanda. None to Le. None to father. None to daughters. None. Take a day off, Pat!
OK — don’t mind if I do!