It's evening. The kids are all in bed. The house is relatively quiet. Dinner has been cooked and eaten, with the dirty dishes taunting me from the kitchen. I'm tired but not ready to give up and go to bed. This is a prime snacking time. I'm thinking about it - what are my choices? What sounds/tastes/feels good? What kind of drink will go with it? And I often think about it for however long it takes. Until my brain stumbles across the "perfect" combination and I head for the kitchen. It's not about being hungry. It's usually not even about having a bad/good day. This whole experience is so habitual.
Though I have had a bad day. I snacked too much, and it doesn't even half count as OK because the fresh fruit was smothered in hot fudge sauce. Man, it was tasty. I'm only half regretful - it was so good.
Well, more than half.
I'm sitting here thinking about sleeping and feeling like I just can't face any of it. Going to bed means getting up in the morning. Moving from the couch means there's some kind of plan. Climbing into bed means I'm really not going to do anything else on the list today. An amazing number of those things are going to be waiting for me in the morning.
I wish I knew why this was so hard. Why some days I feel so out of balance with myself and the rest of the world. I feel crazy, in a lazy quiet way.
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