The rain has finally moved away, leaving a chilly breeze coming through the windows.
The house is finally settled, the kids tucked into their beds fast asleep.
The dishwasher waits in the kitchen with a load of clean dishes, still slick with hot condensation but needing to be put in their place tonight because I won’t have time in the morning.
A half-finished grant proposal sits open on my laptop, needing more revisions as the deadline looms closer and closer.
A tangle of clean sheets and towels fill the dryer, waiting to be folded and put away.
My phone lights up with messages from friends in my cohort asking each other questions about upcoming assignments for class. Assignments that I, too, should spend some time working on this evening.
My mom’s 60th birthday is only a few weeks away and there is a party that must be planned.
There are blog posts to be written and emails to check.
In front of me lies a book, marked only a quarter of the way through with a slip of scrap paper so I don’t lose my place. The characters are calling me with unanswered questions and unresolved issues. Somewhere in my email is a friendly reminder from the library that this book was due almost a week ago. So tonight, instead of doing any of the million responsible things I need to do, I’m going to settle down on the couch with a blanket, a book, and my dog.
Some days you just need to give yourself permission. Especially on rainy Mondays.