It was another busy week at work, as usual--as a matter of fact, the last couple of weeks have been the most stressful since I've started. Working closely with foster kids is enough to get anyone worked up--the more invested in their cases you become, the more your blood boils when you begin to really think about what these little guys have gone through (and often what they're still going through). Point being, I needed a good weekend--but somehow my two closest Fayette-friends coincidentally had weekend-long plans, which rarely happens. At first, I began to think about how I should maybe make more friends; I'm certainly the few close buddies type o' gal. But I had to remind myself it's healthy to have a significant period of solitude every now and again, a sabbatical from socializing if you will. So after catching a happy hour brew (a Hoopty Porter alongside savory beer cheese queso) with one of said friends before they were off Friday afternoon, this is precisely what I did.
I hated cleaning when I was younger--no, hate is too mild of a word. I would've rather shaved off my own skin bit by bit than pick up my messy room as a child (and most people would guess that's still how I am with my car, but as I tell my kiddos, my car is my office). To be honest, if it's something that needs to be cleaned, I still despise it--but I've found that it's an excellent, productive activity to be mindless with after a long week of work. So this is what I did Friday evening, boring as it sounds--granted, it may or may not have been due to my dog getting trapped in my housemate's room, and trying to claw through the door (and the window--he's a smart cookie).
Since I was so good, I decided I should have a treat myself day next.