It’s Sunday. Reading in bed day. Other Sundays, that is.
Do you ever feel that your employer should be paying you overnight since all you seem to have done during the wee small hours is think about, worry about, plan your work for the incoming day/week??
Well, even though it is still the weekend, that is certainly how my Saturday night went. So my Sunday reading regime has beeen sorely disrupted. Not that it has been entirely abandoned, but I have felt guilty spending time on such indulgence.
And the guilt has been accentuated by the realisation that I haven’t even started reading essential material: the bookclub book!!! So that not only have I been engrossed in murder rather than reports, but I will soon start to feel guilty that bookclub night looms ahead and I can’t even remember that name of the book to order it from Amazon!
See – that’s where I am at the moment: if there’s something to beat myself up about, I’ll find it. If there’s not – I’ll manufacture it.
Time for a holiday, don’t you think???? (Or would I probably do better in therapy??)