Well, I'm back at my desk after a tiring weekend at my sister's place in Ireland. Too much drinking, not enough sleep and approximately half a fluid ounce of exercise have rendered me useless. I'm physically frail and emotionally running on empty.
It was lovely to spend some time with the sibs and their better halves, as we do this so infrequently as adults, but I always come away from these events feeling slightly down and introspective. It always occurs to me as I chat with my sisters that we have a lot of collective water until the familial bridge now, and that time is of the essence. I don't like introspection. It hurts.
Anyway, back now, so onwards and upwards. The missus and I have a free weekend this weekend, so I'm not feeling under pressure. It also helped that I had a day off yesterday, which I spent in industrious, domestic bliss. I got ton(nes) done. Again, this industry on my part is another symptom of the time-slipping-by anxiety. In my 20s, I'd have gone to a gallery or watched an impenetrable art-house film. Now I regard those pastimes as wasteful and decadent. My decadent days are behind me I'm afraid.
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