Post Holiday

I returned home yesterday at 3 pm, which didn't really give me enough time to do anything productive, and yet felt too early just to curl up in a ball and sleep off the weekend. Oddly I didn't have the energy to commit to either, so I unpacked, doodled a bit on the computer, lay in bed and fake-napped through "Selected Shorts" (eyes closed, brain unfocused on the story even as I listened to it, but no actual loss of consciousness.) I had to work hard to convince myself that putting my clothes back on to go out and drop off my laundry was in my best interest. (And, judging by the tower of dirty clothes spilling out of my laundry basket, it was.)

As I walked back to my apartment, I recognized that I was in a state of melancholy. Walking alone at night, just past dusk, can bring it on, but I know that it's also hormonal. And I'd just returned from a weekend where I spent time with family, with both good and bad moments. (I'm tired enough of various relatives passive-aggressive torturing of one another to simply shut down around them, which removes me from the bullshit but also from experiencing the moments of closeness that still manage to pop up randomly.) It's pretty well known that holidays are stressful, that too much family is stressful, and yet I'm going to go to work today and get hit with dozens of well-meaning "How was your Thanksgiving?" queries. You know already how I feel about office small talk.

I am behind, with two movies to write about! Not today, though. I have to get to the gym this morning, back in the old routine.