“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.” – Franklin D. Roosevelt
Some of the angst I’ve been feeling was explained in the weekly recap yesterday, but not all of it, and I’ve felt so icky about the past few days that I’m going to excise a bit more here. Since it was supposed to start with a once-a-year-get-together with a family friend and end with a fun couple of days in Boston, sitting glued to the television and watching the news was probably a poor idea, and I have no one to blame but myself.
I ended up staying home due to Boston’s rising Covid numbers, our family get-together was cut slightly short, and the Harvest Moon was in full effect. For three days I mostly watched the news, and it was the perfect recipe for a run-down funk. Wallowing in the misery of our country, I broke through my vegetative state only for meditation, a couple of meals, showers, and a smudging. I’ll get into that another time, I think, as it was a minor point in the weekend. Better than that was sausage and pasta dinner Andy made on Sunday afternoon, and the shared commiseration as we watched the news together.
Those quiet moments took the place of dinners out and shopping excursions on Newbury Street. The occasional walk around the yard, when the sun was slanting low in the afternoon, punctuated my lounging, but the extensive inactivity fed upon itself, and I gave in to the laziness of the weekend. And it was such a pretty weekend, it felt like a bit of a waste, and a bit like it played out exactly as it needed to play out.
