Trashed as in bone tired. It's that end of the week thing. Why do I feel so much more irritable, impatient, and downright agitated on Friday nights than on any other night? Once upon a time, Friday nights used to be exciting--dinner at some restaurant with friends, maybe a movie, a party that started no earlier than ten. Now, I'm lucky if I can keep my weary carcuss out of bed until ten. I feel old.
I haven't written in such a long time. I got into this frame of mind thinking each entry had to be an essay, all polished and perfect. Tonight I just feel like posting a little update--yes, I'm still here, still writing down my dreams, still knitting, still working at the same old job, still living in the same house with the same husband and kids.
Now I'm going to retire to a scalding hot bath filled with lavender relaxation salts and read my book, The Egyptian by Mika Waltari, one of the best-loved books in Finland, I'm told. Anyone out there ever read it before? It's a great book, set in ancient Egypt during the rein of Akenaten. The main character is an Egyptian physician named Sinuhe. I'm at this part where his "sister," the first woman he's really loved, has given herself to her god in Crete. He wants to rescue her from the god's house, but I just know he's about to find her slaughtered.
And that's really all I have to say for now. TGIF.