This week has quite honestly kicked my ass. My workload has essentially doubled for the foreseeable future, my sleep has been terrible, I’m not so good at eating paleo when feeling overwhelmed by life, did anyone else read the WSJ piece on freezing your eggs?, and, oh yeah, for about forty-eight hours I thought I’d been exposed to a scary communicable disease.
- I did not in fact contract a scary communicable disease.
- I made it to Nats Park Wednesday night, and got to chug white wine and dollar dogs with plenty of natitude
- and I’m schooching out of work a little early today, stocking up on goodies and wine at Trader Joes, and spending my Friday night cleaning my apartment. Why is cleaning my apartment on a Friday night exciting, you ask?
- Because Flann and my soul-sister (slash her oldest daughter) Elle are in town and spending the night with me Saturday night! I’m beyond excited for a girls weekend with my gals.
- And on Sunday I’m having most of my family over for Mother’s Day brunch (we’ll pour one out for you, Lizard). Playing hostess for the weekend is always just what the doctor ordered.
The weeks can be as tough as they want when the weekends are as good as my next few.