Jeez, the past eight weeks or so have been pretty much one solid wall of pure drudgery for me, between buckets of client work, the end of the semester, and the sucky part-time job. It really just hasn’t stopped, and now that it’s winding down (at least for a while), I’m not quite sure how to react. As my perspective-laden husband has pointed out, it’s a lot better than the state I was in a couple of years ago, when I was largely unemployed and very worried about many things. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m flat-out exhausted and ready to do something fun.
The problem is that I don’t quite remember what’s fun. I have a sneaking suspicion it might not involve my computer nor spending more time at home. This is not to suggest, mind you, that I don’t love my house. I’ve just seen a little too much of it lately.