I Can be Bad at Weekends
The last month has been all about cleaning, packing, getting the house ready, moving, and unpacking. When I finished up my run this morning, I was met with the pleasant realization that I didn’t have to do anything today.
I am a planner and a scheduler. During college I used to tell Josh 3 months in advance what weekends I could come visit him to make sure he would keep them open. At my old job I traveled a lot, so I had to plan ahead for which races/weekends I wanted to be home. I still enjoy planning, but I often find it hard to see past a certain large event (like moving). Once that event is over, I sometimes have a rough transition period back into normalcy.
Not knowing what to do with myself this weekend reminded me of a time last year where I jokingly suggested to Josh that I needed to Google “what to do on weekends” after a long stretch of traveling. Obviously there are always things to do, and I spent today doing a mix of productive (hanging decorations, cleaning the moss off the mailbox, reading a few chapters of my book) and fun things (afternoon nap and dinner with friends).
I kept such singular focus on getting to April 15th (moving) and April 21st (selling our old house) that I ended up feeling isolated over the last month. It was certainly self-imposed. I didn’t answer or return phone calls and had far fewer interactions with my friends than I usually do. Knowing that it was my own fault didn’t assuage the loneliness, either.
Having dinner with a group of friends this evening broke the final strands of solitude. We caught up with each other while devouring various dips and countless bowls of chips, and I left with a full heart (and stomach).