I spent the weekend in bed. Alone. I finished "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" (geez...talk about a book that could have used a better edit), and then started and finished the next one in the series.
After I delivered the Small People to school on Friday, I repaired to my bedroom, (how E Dickonsonian of me). I had the book that I wanted to finish, some small amount of wine and a bag of lettuce in the fridge.
The grand agenda for this misbegotten weekend was to run and bike and run and bike.
I left the house once to go to the grocery and liquor stores. Who knew that vodka and farm fresh lemonade was so delightful?
I spent the weekend cloistered in my bedroom. I could have had my lover with me, but I didn't have it within me to be giving and available. It concerns me that I can miss my Small People so much that I can shut the normal side of me down and take up an almost reverent relationship with books. I am a person who does things. But sometimes I am paralyzed. I hate it when the kids are gone weekend after weekend after weekend. I hate it when I get letter after letter (forwarded by my attorney) castigating me as a mother. The fact is, we are solid my my little household, even if I don't run. We. Are. Solid.
Appointment Guy is getting ready to retire and is always on vacation. I suppose that I need a new Appointment Guy.
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