I did try to read Proust today, but I could not absorb it at all. I was beyond upset at a major misstep and had to spend a lot of the day sliding down the spiral of shame. I don't know that I am recovered even now, but I thought writing wouldn't be a bad thing ... or would it?
Amazingly, even though this week has been challenging on any number of levels, I managed to not drink or eat my troubles away today. And even, at 9:30, managed to take a 30 minute walk.
Trying to get a good walk is not easy for me. I don't have the inspiration of Albert nor the more or less quiet route already planned. There are many more stop signs and distractions here, but, hopefully, I will figure it out.
So, now, knitting and office supply areas organized, I can take my spiraled self to bed and see if I can make the sleep thing happen.
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