Tonight, I am drinking inferior wine from the bottle because it’s in the fridge and I feel like it. I’ve chucked frozen chips in the oven for dinner because it’s the easiest option, and I’m lazy and don’t have a car to drive the supermarket. I’m going to put on a movie, chosen from my small DVD collection, and I will inevitably pass out on the couch, probably mid textual conversation with my best friend, and wake up an hour and a half later to a goodnight text before stumbling to bed and laying awake until three am.
I have done very little all day, besides get a haircut and visit my dad and play with my best friend’s new puppy, and finish reading High Fidelity. I cleaned my house, and the bunny house, and they are about the only productive things I’ve managed. The Amy that spends her weekends doing an endless list of things, has gone on holiday this week, it seems.
I suppose the weekend is for doing nothing. I work all week, why not take the weekend to relax? It’s a good idea in theory, but now I don’t know whether to feel good about my day or regretful that I haven’t sewed anything, or attempted to work on my writing, or…something. Guys, I think I might be broken. I think I need to learn to enjoy my down time, and stop feeling so dejected if I take a day to do nothing. And with that in mind, I have decided that today may have been exactly what I needed.