Saggy Day

What kind of blogger lets things get so out of hand that a week goes by with no new post? (Don’t answer.)

Preoccupation is the name of the game—a friend whose mid-forties son is in emotional hell; weather that can’t make up its mind so I, too, don’t know whether I’m feeling chilly or just right; a stalled writing project; yard projects I don’t want to do, like weeding; domestic chores I don’t want to do (although I did iron a dozen hankies for hubby and pressed out some major closet-wrinkles from two blouses); and contemplating the visit of my favorite three-year-old who arrives tomorrow afternoon (yes, she’s bringing her parents with her) to stay a few days. Lots to think about but little impetus to do anything about any of it.

The doldrums will pass; the company will arrive. By Sunday afternoon things will be hopping around here—and it will be fun! Now, though, I feel saggy and ready for a nap.

Oh, did I mention that soon I’ll be married to an old man? Hubby turns seventy tomorrow! Maybe that’s the source of my melancholia. So . . . I’ll try to stop fretting and enjoy the last of my “collective youth.”