Worn Out

I explained today to someone I'd dated casually awhile ago that my most recent string of quasi-relationships had just tuckered. me. out. As much as I'd prefer not to be alone-alone, sitting on the couch knitting quietly is pretty OK at the moment.

Also, I've just been tired. And my eyes are bloodshot for no particular reason that I know of, except maybe allergies. I hate it when I get a queasy tired feeling, though, because when I'm queasy I can't do anything, which is frustrating. Stopped my knitting earlier tonight.

I ripped one of my Christmas gifts and began again on slightly bigger needles. It's a quick knit (so far... when I get closer to the end it may seem interminable), so I wasn't too angst-ridden over the frogging.

I really can't wait for Friday, though... it's payday, I'm leaving early to go buy some work slacks and thence to Article Pract for more Christmas-related yarn (ergo, guilt-free!), and then I will go home, curl up, and recharge. I'm a lector this Sunday so need to go to the 11 AM Mass, which is fine. But that's my only required duty this weekend.

Sometimes I daydream about getting a hotel room for the weekend -- not going anywhere, just getting a space that is sparse and clean and quiet, for a mini-retreat of books and yarn and the like. When I was an Episcopalian, I went on an actual retreat to the Bishop's Ranch (see bottom picture on right; that was the building we stayed in) which turned out a lot like that. I ended up with my own room, and there was a pool, an always-open honor-system bookshop (!!!), a chapel right across the path from our house, and hot-air balloons rising over the valley in the mornings. I don't think I could recreate that quite, but I could rustle something up, surely...