So it's back to work tomorrow after my four-day weekend. Naturally, I didn't do everything I wanted to do ... but if you know me, you'd know that getting everything done that I want to do, even in a four day span, is fucking impossible anyway. I always load my expectations too heavily. Even so, I don't feel as though the time was wasted. I got my car back, watched all my Flix and True Romance, read a few trade paperbacks I hadn't gotten to yet, organized a few things around the house, and I even did some writing. Not a lot of writing -- not as much as I wanted to (again, that would be filed under 'fucking impossible') -- but writing was indeed done, and anything is better than nothing. Am I right?
Sure I am.
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