Day of (all the) rest

"What's a weekend?" is a question famously put forth by the Dowager Countess on everyone's favorite Edwardian soap opera 'Downton Abbey.' A hilarious indicator of how old fashioned and utterly upper crust she is, it is, actually, a question I could quite rightly ask as a graduate student. When you work from home and your schedule is totally your own, it's hard to remember what regimented time off is.

This is something I constantly struggle with, as I always feel like I should be working. It's the problem with having everything on my computer..I always have the capacity to be writing/reading, even if I'm catching up on TV, watching a movie or talking to friends. Thus, my leisure time gets tainted by work and my work gets distracted by leisure. A balancing act, for sure.

Except for Sunday! I still work on Sunday, usually last minute attempts to finish self-assigned projects before my occasional study group meetings, but it is ALSO the day I put aside for all things house related. Laundry gets done on Sunday, remaining dishes get washed, the living room gets put back together (save for the blanket fort, which will remain standing for this week), mail gets sorted, sheets get changed...it's a whirlwind adventure of fun. I say that somewhat sarcastically, and yet, I always look forward to Sunday because it's time set aside for a specific purpose and a way to accomplish a lot of little tangible things.

When the going gets tough...

...the tough build blanket forts.

Yepp. This is how I deal with feeling down....and you know what? 

It worked.

To the Writing Cave!

Universal Chocolate Markdown Day(s)

I was going to write something the day after Valentine's Day, and then forgot. Instead of being a diatribe against the holiday, however, it was going to be an acknowledgment that I have somewhat come around to seeing its appeal. Part of this is because I live with an unabashed Vday fan (Red loves knowing that "somewhere, someone is getting up the courage to say 'I like you'", which, I have to admit, is a pretty sweet thought) and part of it is because I've come around to the idea that not being with someone doesn't mean you are unloved/don't love.

I use the past tense not because these thoughts have changed but because I'm no longer motivated to elaborate on them in a much longer post about "what love means to me." But I thought I was worth mentioning that I was at least thinking about it! Consider it a teaser trailer for a post to come later on in life.

The biggest development in my life recently seems to be an inexplicable impulse to buy hair products (do you see why I don't write more often?). I am not a person who has ever really done much with her hair, except wash it and occasionally dye it red, and so I have never tested my hypothesis that it has the capacity to look anything other than electrocuted-rat's-nest-chic. But now, thanks to pharmacy offers, the need to fill out my grocery order and a BOGO deal, I suddenly have a drawerful of serums, sprays, shampoos and God knows what else. I anticipate a week, maybe ten days, of experimentation before some shiny object, magazine and big sale distracts me and I become fixated on another area of my daily routine.

Gimme a Break

I think my favorite part of work is my break. Now, I know that sounds like a slacker/dissatisfied worker/The Office type thing to say, but I don't mean it like that. Sure, it's nice to have 15 minutes with no responsibilities, but about half of any shift is downtime, so it's not that much different. I don't have to worry about my volume as much? I can eat or drink something? But, really, my job is pretty cushy, so it's not like break time comes and I'm just dying to escape.

Why I like my break so much is because a break at a theatre is, really, unlike any other. Take last night, for example.

Coming down the stairs to the greenroom, I caught the door because the sound of it slamming can be heard in the auditorium. Turning around, I almost ran into a woman in a huge 17th century velvet dress, complete with bustle and huge ruff, drinking from a bottle of water. Going into the greenroom, I maneuvered around a Puritan jailer to make a cup of cocoa and then read the company newsletter while a nun ran lines with a vocal coach on the couch across from me. After about five minutes, a Spanish lord walked in to check the sports score.

I mention this to people I work with and the response is almost always, "Oh, you'll get used it." I'm not not used to it. I have a theatre background. It's patchy and largely administrative, but I'm used to being in theatrical spaces and seeing this kind of thing. I just think it's really cool.  And if "getting used to it" means not appreciating how awesome it is that my co-workers are jailers, royalty, nuns, princes, murderers, servants, priests, madmen, ghosts, witches, drunkards or any other host of things, in any combination, on any given day...well, then, I hope I never do.

Hey, Sweet Annie

Today, Red and I went to London to see the stage version of The Woman in Black (the only time I have ever legitimately screamed in a theater). Because Leamington Spa is a cursed place when it comes to train connections (last week's return from Oxford was an adventure), we once again missed our connecting train to Strats because of a delayed first train and found ourselves in a taxi.

The reason for the delay was snow. Massive amounts of snow. Snow as far the eye can see! A blizzard!

Well, a blizzard by England's standards. So...three inches. Maybe.

I'm unsure if it's that the English don't know how to drive in the snow, have the wrong cars for snow, or some combination of both, but damn. The roads were a mess. Cars stalled everywhere, no one in the right lane, everything crawling to a stand-still and Red and I constantly shooting each other looks in the backseat that clearly said, "Um...really?"

We made it home, though, and not too much later than in normal working conditions. Stopping by the Sainsbury's on a snowy evening, we returned back to Davies House, and I wasn't so cold and tired that I couldn't appreciate how beautiful it all was. I even made a snow angel outside our front door before running inside to get into the biggest, fuzziest sweater I could find and fix a cup of tea the size of my head.




Keep warm and cozy, everyone.