I am having a panic attack right now. My heart is racing, and physically I am all upset. Here’s the reason why: I can’t seem to convince some part of my brain and body that I am on vacation and DON’T have to go to the day job tomorrow.
All the things I didn’t get done today that I usually get done in preparation for a Monday are weighing on my psyche. But I don’t HAVE to do them today/tonight. I have the time tomorrow to do them. Because I’m not working.
I’ve had a lovely day, too, and accomplished much but on a slower schedule. Plus the Shaws came by with the first season of WKRP on DVD. We had snacks, then a pizza supper. Lots of fun and relaxation. But some part of me can’t handle that this was the scope of my day today.
I think I’m going to hurl. No, my throat is too tight to barf.
This is just an insane response. I need the autopilot workhorse perfectionist to TURN OFF. Now would be an optimal time.
Maybe I should break into the Three Buck Chuck. A glass of white could calm me down — or knock me out (I’m such a lightweight). Maybe I should run around the dining room table a couple dozen times, making Three Stooges noises. It makes about as much sense as how I feel physically. Crap.