Stayed at work until 5 grading story quilts. Went to friend/colleague’s house with other colleagues to drink margaritas and commiserate how exhausted we all felt.
There were a lot of hours spent with dogs. Walking dogs. Bathing dogs. Obedience class for BC (Border collie). Pretending I didn’t notice every time when he got bored and would roll on his back and do the wiggle scratch dance. It doesn’t help when others keep telling him he’s cute.
I’m not sure I did anything. At least to completion. There was a lot of half done housework. Oh yeah, some dog walking.
Went in to work and graded two more classes of story quilts. Came home and read exhaustively on the internets. Did a half ass job on some more household chores. More dog walking.
Tried to do some work. I now have some half done lessons for next week. More dog walking.
Husband was off and we had a date day; we went to the North Shore with BC. Husband suggested we leave the cooler and beach bag locked in the car so we could take a walk first. Walked with husband and BC for four miles through soft sand. It was a beautiful day and there were points when I even thought about coming home and writing something, maybe even a poem, to catch the amazing beauty. But my legs feel like overcooked spaghetti. So my brain is claiming exhaustion based on how my legs feel.
More reading on the internets. This article was the best. Warning! It's politics. But it's extremely well written and from The New Yorker.
I have four days left and one of my goals is to have ONE day where I am in my PJ’s until at least noon. Maybe longer.