I woke this morning feeling like someone/something is trying to steal my summer time from me. I feel like I start back to work tomorrow, but I don't really start back until August 5. I do have to go to a meeting tomorrow, and I'm supposed to go to a couple of things next week, which reminds me I need to cancel those (done!). Today, all I have to do is drive down to Freeport this afternoon and pick up Valerie. I had thought that I might go visit my friend Lois and her grandsons, whom she is babysitting this week. They must have kept her so busy this week that she has not had any problems sleeping because she hasn't replied to my email yet. She tends to surf the net late at night and early in the morning when she's having trouble sleeping.
I feel like I have to fight the summer-time thief by satisfying my need to do only what I want to do--read, read, read, and blog a little, nothing too stressful, no expectations. For the past three days, I have really done nothing stressful. I have even decided to drop my fiction workshop. I am completely blocked on finishing my story, but also, I really can't stand the thought of spending 6+ hours of the rest of my summer, reading and responding to someone else's work. Damn, I really am so selfish these days. Instead, I want to finish Dear Zoe, read at least two more books, write some blog posts and maybe a poem or two, and not really think about work until August 1. I just want to be able to stay up late and sleep late and not feel like something is waiting for me.
One potentially stressful thing that I must do before August 5: my car needs some repairs. I had planned to have the brakes done and the front axle replaced when I get paid next week. Now, I think I may have to have my alternator replaced too. Maybe the need for car repairs initiated this feeling of desperation. Whatever caused it, I don't like it! Damn the life of an underpaid working person.