Two Days Down, 10 to Go

There was a party at my house yesterday.

A pity party.

With one person on the invite list.

Moi.

Yes, I was feeling very sorry for myself, staring into the seemingly endless black hole that is this upcoming stretch of Husband-less days.

Thinking about how faaaaaar away next Thursday is. And how many kid activities I have to negotiate (two daytime school events this week). And how it's sooooo hard to have to try to fit eight hours of work into the time between school bus pick-up and drop-off.

(Can't you just hear the violins playing...)

So I tried giving myself the evening off. I skipped my workout and drowned my sorrows in (what else?) chips and dip. I tried to take a nap.

And ended up feeling worse than before. Welcome to Grump City, population: 1.

Then it occurred to me - this malaise calls for much more than the usual taking-it-easy and being-kind-to-myself. I need to raise the bar a bit. I need to bring out the big guns (in a pacifist way, of course).

I need this:

Of course! What do I do when my kids are grumpy and grody? Send them to bed early with a book. Does wonders for their spirits and mine.

So I'm going to take my own medicine this time. And who wouldn't feel eleventy-billion times better when reading stuff like this:

Women were expected to have weak opinions; but the great safeguard of society and of domestic life was that opinions were not acted on. Sane people did what their neighbours did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them.

Pure gold, I tell you.