Dragons 1, Cin 0

Let’s set the scene, shall we?

William: Oi sir, what are you doing?

Chaucer: Uh… trudging. You know, trudging? [pause] To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on.

A Knight’s Tale, 2001

This week, alas, has been a metaphorical trudge. Gone is the vacation euphoria, replaced by a reality that’s settled on me like a throw made of particularly short-stapled, itchy wool. It’s making me want to break out.

I’ve spent all week fighting dragons, and I’m feeling rather singed, crunchy even, and it won’t do at all.

I need an action plan, emphasis on action.

I’m off to the drawing board, if by drawing board you mean a corner of the couch, a cup of tea, a notepad, my obnoxious pink-ink pen and a feline or two.

Updated to add: Well apparently what I actually needed was a nice long nap, which is exactly what I had after coming home to (and resolutely trying to clean up) someone’s projectile vomiting. I have no idea who did this, but it was the yuck icing on my cranky cake, and was astounding in the square footage of carpeting it covered. Poor kitties. They both came to bed with me. Thus ends a rousing Friday night in the life of Cin. Oy vay.