anxiety of the sunday night variety

  • I hate it. It’s a shitty way to end an otherwise completely fabulous weekend. 
  • This morning upon waking: Me: Good morning, Jackson. Him: Mom, wouldn’t it be cool if a penguin was on top of the Eiffel Tower? Me: Totes.
  • Super productive weekend though. Work, cleaning, laundry, lots of kid bonding time, finished a book, read a novella, epic three hour nap, etc. For the record, if you dig horror you should check out The Mourning House by Ronald Malfi. 
  • Seeing my mom was cool. It went really well. I’m pleased. Hopeful even. 
  • Watching the season finale of Girls. My absolute favorite quote of this season was in the first half of this episode: “She has a lot to say about the feminist approach of being a fucking bitch.” I lol’d. 
  • I love Lena Dunham. I wish I had her confidence. 
  • I feel lucky and spoiled and not good enough all at the same time.
  • Forever fucking tired.
  • Busy week ahead. That’s part of what’s causing the anxiety. 
  • The end. 

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