Back to It

Didn’t sleep well, so I had a hard time getting up at 3:30. But I still managed to get out of bed before 4:00.

I had restless legs last night, I did come downstairs and eat, twice, before I even fell asleep. And I had nightmares about childhood that caused me to yell at Nate Canton and Susan Brass in my sleep and wake up Derek.

You might say I am a piece of work. And you might be right.

The good news is, I am nevertheless down slightly on the scale. It doesn’t feel like it, based on the comfort level of my jeans, but, oh well, I’ll take it, anyway. It could be because they just came out of the dryer.

I’m not even doing anything and I’m sweating. I assure you, my thyroid is normal. It’s been tested. It’s just the way I am. I don’t love it, and I believe it messes with my complexion.

Wow, super-negative Leah, this morning! Let’s think of something funny.

Shane falling off the couch (don’t worry, he lands on his feet).

Donald Trump falling off the couch (and landing on his butt). Okay, now I’m 12.

Desmond, age 3, ripping off his pants and lassoing them over his head, stomping his feet, galloping in the air, shouting, “I don’t wanna sit on the potty!”

Ahhhh, that’s better.

I could conceivably make it to work by 5:30, if I leave within the next 10 or so minutes. I’m not sure I want to do that. I could just stay a bit later on Thursday to make up for leaving for my appointment today. 3:30?

Yup, it’s already 5:00. I’m not really ready to get up. I should, though. Open up that box with the calendars and bring Office Bingo to work. Get my shoes on. Start the car.

I’m glad to be headed back. Derek isn’t. I wonder what enthralling adventures await. Maybe I will drive the tugger. Maybe I will have to be assertive today. Maybe I will walk straight into the gate (let’s hope not, though).

I hope it is a good day. Well, why wouldn’t it be? Partly, it’s what you make it, I suppose.

A good therapist can be hard to find. A great one, even harder. I’ve been lucky, mostly. I’ve had three amazing therapists, including my present one. I’ve had others, too, who were less amazing. One was…I don’t even want to talk about her.

When I was 14, the first of the three brilliant ones told me not to worry about what I can’t control. I still try to live by this.

I think I’d better get moving, now. If I don’t, I won’t even get to work by 6:00.

So, my dear readers, have a wonderful morning and a safe commute. Thanks for reading 🥰

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