I am buried in writing that I need to do, either for financial/deadline or academic purposes. I’m tired and I’d like to go to my cozy bed, next to my cozy husband but I keep feeling like if I can write for 15 more minutes I’ll be able to breath a little easier tomorrow.
I’m also sore from a weekend that was more fun than I’ve had in a long time. I drank a little too much and danced for hours at an event dubbed “mom prom” (me and 97 other women, no kids, no men except the DJ and the bartenders). My sides are literally sore from laughing and my knees are angry about how much 90s hip-hop music (50% of the DJ’s playlist) instructs one to “jump around”.
These are lucky problems to have, I suppose. So I’ll do 15 more minutes.
And I’ll type type type and listen to some fantastic new music.