Here I am.

I missed yesterday, since I went out after work for an early dinner with a friend, then to my alternate knitting group, then home in time to watch the second period of the Bruins game, then listened to part of the third period on the radio in bed before turning it off to sleep (they actually won!). (Thanks to stupid NBCSN and their stupid Wednesday Night Rivalry, the game didn't start until 8, instead of the usual 7.) So it was a good night, and a busy night, but not an early night. And then I woke up early, before the alarm, out of a disturbing dream where things weren't what they seemed. I've been tired and out of sorts all day.

As hoped, I did manage to go to bed early Tuesday night, and got an unusual amount of sleep for a weeknight, and happily I felt better yesterday than I had on Tuesday. Not that I wasn't tired, I'm pretty much always tired, but better otherwise. (I sometimes wonder what it must be like to not be tired all the time, but this isn't really unusual for me. I think it's just how I am.)

I know, pretty blah here tonight, right? That's how my day has been. I'm tired; I'm struggling to make myself go to swimming tonight; I'm bummed about the weather forecast, since today's weather Has Not Been Warm, and yet is the high in the 10-day forecast, which also includes snow. I'm relieved that I have no time-specific plans for this weekend, so I can get a few things done around here, and errands out, without struggling to fit them in between things.

And sleep. I will sleep. Weekends tend to be good for that. Though without the weird dreams, hopefully, or at least without remembering them. I wonder what in the world it means that I was telling my father I was baking a Tarte Janet for him? Not a recipe I ever heard of, in waking life.