I didn’t last a week. (insert image of me shrugging) Whatever. I make the challenge, and I can bend it or break it however I want. I am long past the point where I can be bothered to feel guilt for failing a self-imposed deadline.
Call it self- care. Call it laziness. Call it coming to grips with how my mind works. It truly doesn’t matter.
Friday was a long and almost difficult day. I bailed on the Wellington Cask Fest because once all was said and done, it seemed too far to go to hang around by myself. Better to come home and be with Keith and the cats.
Today was the pleasant normality of shopping, cooking, canning and baking. It has not escaped me how much I enjoy and am deeply satisfied by the activities that I mocked so thoroughly for so long.
Middle age is finding out just how wrong you were about everything.