It's raining today: a sort of misty half-hearted rain. This morning was very dark; the day was very slow to start. I woke up cranky. I'm not a Sunday fan. They feel like a missed opportunity. The week is over, perhaps it could've been better. The new week looms. They feel dreary, simultaneously too short and too long.
I spent my Saturday fairly slothfully so I was determined to actually do something with my time. I ran laundry, listened to Prairie Home Companion, cleaned up, made meatballs. I attempted to spend time with Lala, but she was pretty insistent on sleeping and very fussy when awake.
I still wasn't feeling very happy, so I insisted my husband and I take a walk for the first time in a while. The air was refreshing and it was unseasonably warm. I started our walk with heavy talk and it didn't get better as we went. I am discontent. I wanted to analyze and explore and I wanted my husband to be party to it. We don't make enough money, we aren't trying hard enough, we haven't figured out where we're going.
I rounded the corner and caught myself. Why wasn't I happy? This day had been excellent. Dinner and a conversation with my sister awaited me. I realized that I was building up the power of Sunday in my head. There was no reason to be unfulfilled.
I straightened up a little, I stopped griping about our prospects, and allowed myself to actually be happy for a little while.