The days fly by, do they not? And somewhere in the pursuit of the perfect job, the perfect body, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect mate and friends and social life and cup of coffee and manicure and photos and hair and.... Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, in the pursuit of the imagined calm, successful, happy, I've lost my balance.
Sundays used to be a most favorite, and a most productive day. There was much yoga and Target shopping trips and laundry and cleaning and kitten cuddles. Eventually the bliss and domestic productivity waned into bad television and schoolwork, but in the end, it was always relaxing. Always too short. But satisfying in a way that only a truly productive, quasi sweaty day could be.
I need my Sundays to be relaxed and productive. I need them to be quasi solitary.
I love my family and I love that we can spend time together nearly every day. I love my church family and the friends and lunch dates that go with it. But sometimes a girl's just gotta hole up in her room and make things happen.
Today, I am reclaiming my Sunday. For me. Sitting in sweatpants and with hair piled messily atop the head. Kitten nestled in a box (?!) in the closet, slumbering nearby. Windows open, my room filling with the scent of fresh air and slowly drying laundry. Freshly vacuumed floors and a bear of a to-do list looming for the week. But taking the time to work it out, in the quiet almost-fall breeze puts a girl at ease.