you know, i had a great weekend.
i went out for a birthday dinner where i tried ethiopian food for the first time (and loved it) and then decimated an ice cream cake while watching “cack” videos. had the car serviced and drove my first courtesy car to a very important meeting, braved saturday afternoon costco for almonds and then had friendly pub times. then, we had brunch and sneaky airport reunions with scary accessories and celebratory chicken & african chocolate bars.
everything about the weekend was awesome, except… i’m exhausted and i feel entirely drained and worn out. i didn’t get my laundry finished or my cooking done so my lunch is a haphazard hash of leftovers and my breakfast was far less palatable with the missing cheese. i got less than zero quality me time and, holy fuck, am i grumpy about it.
i don’t even get any relief because i have to get the laundry & cooking done before i go back to the airport to pick up someone else tonight.
WHINE.
i guess i’m just not built for fun times. sigh.