Its been an anxious week—mentally exhausted and distracted, lethargic, and generally not good for anything, culminating in a total meltdown yesterday afternoon. (The moral? Get out of the house now and then. Its hard to remember why you should, when you work at home, and its -30 outside. But really is necessary.)
The project I was supposed to have done last Monday was going nowhere, and the more time I spent looking at it, the stupider I felt. Its like staring at a word for too long, and suddenly you’re certain that its spelled incorrectly. That you’ve never seen that combination of letters in that particular order before, and you’re not even certain you know what it was supposed to spell anymore. And what made you think you ever knew how to spell anything in the first place?
All week long.
I went over to mum’s for dinner. Not out of any desire to be sociable, but because we had made plans earlier in the week, and go-and-be-miserable was easier than call and explain why I wasn’t. And she swings into comfort mode.
Enough sushi to feed the Israeli army, a very tasty bottle of Cab-Merlot, cambazola cheese, pomegranate & mango juice, and the most cheerful looking orangey crocus you ever did see. We munched, watched bad television, and generally spent the most comfortable and amiable evening that we’ve had together in since I can remember. Which reminded me that while there may be many grounds we don’t meet on, one thing mum is really good at is comfort.
Which is pretty durned lucky, because like a lot of boys, C still hasn’t figured out how to handle the crying girl schtick.
(On the less fortunate side, yesterday’s meltdown including dumping an entire glass of lemonade over my hello kitty keyboard. ::fttz fttz:: goes the keyboard, merrily ignoring every third depression. ::le sigh::)