So, yesterday was one of those days where I had things I “needed” to do and I also had things I “wanted” to do, and while I had the entire day to get all things considered and done, I still felt under a self-imposed deadline which caused stress. On A Sunday. In The Park With George (never mind, it’s Sondheim and if you don’t know it what the hell are you even doing here?)
The entire week had been a tad frantic, though most of it was going on upstairs in my own personal attic of a mind, with a great deal of physical sitting and waiting and trying to look patient and kind and relaxed when inside a great deal of screaming and wailing and gnashing of teeth was edging closer with each passing minute. Still, by yesterday, Sunday, I should have been in full recuperation and recovery mode, and just chilled the hell out.
I did get most of the “needed” to do accomplished along with most of the “wanted” to do, so it was technically a fulfilling day. But, I discovered, decompression from the week takes effort, and I was more focused on Getting Things Done than I was on just Don’t Worry-ing and Be Happy-ing.
So I say unto you, based on my own Personal Jesus (Depeche Mode, just go the hell home if you don’t know that one) and my own Personal Sunday Angst: Chill out whilst thy can, and enjoy thy bounties, and flush all that rat-shit out of your brain and just have fun making sushi or playing with the dogs or taking a nap. That’s What Sunday Is For.
There is more than enough time for all that should be done, today and tomorrow, so Sit Your Ass Down (Madonna, Erotica Era, and if you don’t know that one just leave, now, and please don’t come back) and take a deep breath, and allow yourself to love yourself for a few minutes before you go entirely crazy f**king bonkers.