I’ve been sick today with a cough and general miasma of gloom in my bones and my soul.
Despite being self-employed, I stayed in bed and slept for the majority of the day but when not asleep, berated myself for being lazy and in bed which hasn’t led to much of a rest day.
I can feel things slipping away from me: bills; housework; parenting; wife-ing; work; fitness… and I have to get back on top of it all or I will drown in a lake of mundanity.
The King (I have no idea what nickname to call the husband-to-be in this blog anymore as no pseudonym seems to do his handsomeness; wit; generosity or patience justice so, he’s the King for now) and I had a blissfully secluded few days away in Ashley Park House this past weekend so I should be refreshed and grateful but instead I am wallowing in a fog of my brain’s own making.
Tomorrow, I will be better. Tomorrow, I will face the day despite my coughing in its face and I will begin to rise to the top of that pile of daily life shite. And if I don’t, I will breathe and remember to ask for help: I will sit; I will drink tea and count my blessings, of which there are many.
Anyone else need a kick up the arse?