So I droppped the kiddos off this morn and watched my mama friends tear up. For a microsecond I felt bad that I wasn't crying, but my girls are so excited to be going that I am more happy for them than sad. After that I invited the moms to breakfast and thought, Huh. I could sit here all day. I literally have nowhere to go and nowhere I need to be.
An hour or so later though, I had a mini panic attack in Wild Oats wondering if I will actually be able to achieve all that I want to with my book this week.
Luckily that only lasted about four minutes.
Then I drove home and got tired. I counted on my hands the eight hours that I have already been awake and it was only 10 a.m. Maybe I should take a nap, I thought. But then the panic came again that I would sleep my 13 days away and get nothing done.
Back at home I made a salad and sat on the front porch and realized that I was still racing around like I had to go drive carpool in 2 hours or something. It was a strange feeling knowing how rushed my life feels on a daily basis. I rolled a tomato around in the balsamic vinagrette and thought, "Mmmm... this is why Italians mix these two." And once again it dawned on me that I rush through eating without really tasting my food most of the time.
Calling people crossed my mind, but then I thought, No, I just want to sit. I don't need to do anything yet. Not even write. I will just try to enjoy nothingness today.
So that's what I'm doing.
Until Lindsey gets home and then I might play tennis. But I need to warn him that I intend to live without a watch for the next thirteen days and that means I will write late into the night and might sleep in the afternoon. And I might fix chocolate chip cookies for dinner, or pizza for breakfast. Who knows.
We'll see. I might end up doing laundry, but I'll keep you posted :) And don't panic if you call and I don't answer. I'm probably just doing nothing.