Somehow, yesterday actually felt like a day off. There was no crushing angst, no attacks of the Fear, no unfortunate work-related crap being dumped on me. I got up. I made a nice breakfast (steamed salmon and broccoli, because I'm weird), I called Caroline, and took my computer over to Dolce Vita to write. I wrote two thousand words on the swamp story, then Caroline showed up, she read the draft, gave me some ideas and pointed out some problems, we chattered and such while people-watching. Old ladies made a lot of noise. Then we went our separate ways, so I could get groceries and head to Michael's place to make stuffed peppers for dinner club. Which turned out really well, even as Michael and Lisa flirted with me as I cooked. It was, in all, the first real day off I've had in weeks, mostly because I felt good the whole way through.
And then today started off my fresh work week, which was utterly boring but not too bad. Nobody made me really angry, Melissa was back from Disneyland and we passed, like ships in the night. I was supposed to do some work on the story, but I watched Charlie's Angels and read the first volume of Warren Ellis's run on Thunderbolts instead.
Tomorrow's Michael's birthday, his first one in the new apartment. There will be a housewarming on Sunday, but I look forward to seeing him after I (eventually) escape work at nine o'clock.