According to statistics I'm making up right now, Sunday is the most depressing day of the week, representing, as it does, the imminent end of freedom and the return to the drudgery of the work week. This is especially true today, since I haven't been to work in six days, and now must face six days straight. And also because the last six days haven't been exactly free, since a lot of it involved taking Karen places like the bathroom and to the hospital for an MRI which she didn't get because after waiting two hours, they told us that the machine was broken, so we still have that to look forward to.
Karen was improved enough yesterday (and it was a scheduled day off, not sick leave, because I wouldn't have a good time on sick leave; I wouldn't) that we went to Lincoln (the movie, not the capital of Nebraska) which makes me a feel a little ashamed talking about an impending loss of freedom compared to the weightier issues of freedom and dignity discussed in the movie.
Although, saying, "weightier," reminds me that on Friday, I was going to weigh my self for the first time since last December. But, aside from helping Karen walk down the hall, I had spent the week lolling in pajamas, and I didn't want to make a week of inactivity the prelude to my return to the scale after the Christmas feasting. I'm not saying I had become portly, but Disney Cruises had tried to secure docking rights. Sorry, that was just Goofy.
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