Well, it finally came. Two weeks of hacking coughs and long hours are over, and Easter is gone, leaving a scattering of jelly beans and chocolate in its wake. “I’m starting to hate religious holidays,” I told Jon last week on the phone. “You must be a cleric,” he said easily. “Or married to one.”
Yes. I think that’s about it.
I don’t always hate holidays, and I certainly didn’t mean to hate Easter this year. It just sort of happens. I think you have to have a plan to enjoy them, and I forgot this time around, that’s all.
Well and on the brighter side it looks like we may get 3 or 4 days off this coming weekend to make up for all the overtime, so my feelings about Easter may be significantly softened by this time next week. We’ll see.
In unrelated news, I read Sue Monk Kidd’s spiritual memoir Dance of the Dissident Daughter in enormous chunks over the last two days, and if my bloggish comings and goings are sketchy for the next while, I think I’m going to blame that. Lots of fragments breaking loose in my mental space, lots of ideas to explore. I suspect it’s one of those books that would be incredibly difficult to discuss in an open forum because it would be so easy to strawmanize, but it’s giving me things to think about and opening new avenues of thought and that, I think, is generally a good thing.
Must dash. Mel’s here for lunch and then I’ve got a couple mountains that want moving.