You know, there's is nothing like sitting on your ass for a whole week to make you tired. I read three books, I rested, I relaxed, and now I'm exhausted. I have a whole list of things that I need to do today, but I will be happy if I can accomplish two of them, and I've already gotten out of bed, so I have one to go. I was kind of awake and on it yesterday, but today I can hardly keep my eyes open.
At least we're unpacked. Mostly. There are trips where the suitcases sit around the hallway for a week, and I'm digging make up out of the toiletry bag piece by piece for a while before everything is put away. This time there are freshly washed bathing suits hanging in the bathroom, a pile of mail that still needs to be gone through, but that's about it.
I came back from dropping L off at school and decided to go back to bed until 10. I woke up at 11, and watched TV, and I'm still trying to form a coherent thought. I think I need to start by going to the vet's office and picking up Perry's ugly-ass blanket that was left there. Then I need to hit the supermarket. I don't need anything there, I just want to walk up to it and hit it as hard as I can because I hate the supermarket so much. Have I told you that once my Dad "retired" my mom stopped going to the market and made him do it? I think this anti-shopping thing must be genetic. The moment Rob retires, I'm handing him a list and shoving him out the door with both hands. If I never see the inside of another super market it wont be too soon.
What the hell am I talking about? I've got nothing. Too tired. No right to be tired, and yet...