Tonight's wallowing in bed reading and reading will be different from all other nights (lately). Why is this night different from all other nights, you ask? Instead of being "guilty exhausted denial of the need to read a bunch of derrida and critical essays in spanish from 1943 and write a paper about it all" wallowing, it will be just glorious wallowing. Guilt free! Nothing looming!
There will be port and chocolate as well.
Even washing the dishes seemed relaxing. I could put on my apron and warble tunefully at the sink, if I knew how to warble.
I will make CDs for presents but since they are HOLIDAY presents not Xmas presents, I feel no pressure. Holiday could mean anything, really!
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