I was very busy this weekend with things I would have preferred not to do. By Sunday night, I had reached the point where I was sure if I went to work on Monday, I'd be yelling, "FUCK IT!" like someone with Tourette's.
This would be frowned upon.
I decided to take a personal day.
Around 4:00 p.m., I had a realization.
I'd spent the entire day putting things in order.
I'd ordered checks.
I'd done a trillion loads of laundry.
I'd went through our filing cabinet, filing the pile of paid bills that was getting bigger and bigger and pulling out old bills to shred.
I'd spent a few hours working on my quilt. I spent hours putting small, even squares into larger, even strips and then sewing those strips together.
I spent the evening organizing iTunes and ripping CDs. I cannot stand that iTunes files Jason Robert Brown under J instead of B, so I changed the sort properties of all the artists that annoyed me.
Creating order out of chaos. Organizing, renaming, folding, ironing, sewing.
Today I'm back at work and feel much calmer.