tomorrow, after work, i will be making my way to the airport and flying to boston. (well, by making my way, i mean BoyCat will be driving me, because he is a huge sweetheart and does things like drive me to the airport in beltway rush hour traffic.)
i am kind of freaking out (no! me, freaking out?) about the potential bad-ish weather predicted for tomorrow. BoyCat and my entire family are sick of hearing about this from me, so i have to assume that the internets are going to be just as disinterested in my snow-related hand wringing. i shall spare you. suffice to say, i am bringing a big novel, money for the airport bar, and my xanax, and then hoping for the best.
i'm really glad to be going home for a few days - i think all the members of the Cat family need a bit of a break right now. so we'll hibernate, watch tv, drink wine from a box, and generally try to recuperate from life. it sounds overly dramatic, but don't you sometimes feel like you need to recuperate from the effort of existing, from the drag on the line that accompanies every day, from the sadness and exhaustion that can come from the little depressing moments that you witness everywhere? today, on the way home from work, i looked at a middle-aged man's face as he waited for the train car doors to open, and i nearly cried. his wool hat sat crooked on his head, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, deep lines on his face and no trace of emotion in his eyes. he was tired. i was tired. we are all so, so tired.
perhaps a post or two from me over the weekend, but perhaps not. either way, you all take care of yourselves over these next few days too.