Like most of the nation (I suspect), I’ve spent today thinking that today is Saturday. It’s not! It’s Friday! It’s a bank holiday and it’s been lovely being off work.
On this penultimate 10,000 steps day, I made my way into town, clearly feeling a little tired from last night’s antics as I got five minutes away from home before realising that I’d forgotten my purse and had to boomerang back to get it. Annoying.
Anyway, despite the false start I’ve self-cared in a few ways. I treated myself to lunch in a cafe with glass tables (I didn’t like seeing my knees underneath my coffee cup) and enjoyed butternut squash soup the thickness of baby food (just how I like it). I bumped into two colleagues on my travels, got a gift for someone, had a stroll around the marina and finished off with a quick supermarket shop. A good balance of indulgence, activity and practicality in the self-care stakes.
I’ve got some plans afoot for over the Easter weekend, including seeing family and friends. I love time off over Easter. There isn’t the hectic busyness of Christmas, so the break feels more restful and relaxing; longer, even if it isn’t. It’s lighter and warmer and everything seems to have a bit more life. I have a bit more life; a bit more oomph.
Tonight will be an early night after a late one yesterday. I’m a nice kind of tired, though. The kind that’s from doing good stuff rather than a drained, desperate tired. I still have two weeks off ahead of me to rest and revitalise myself. It’s a pleasant feeling.