I think my husband is trying to kill me. Not literally, but we've been running around like crazy between our work hours. And I'm starting to feel like I'm dragging. I'm ready to for time off and I don't want to do anything on Saturday, if at all possible.
And to answer my own question. Yes, my husband loves me. I'm just not sure he realizes that I'm starting to feel really tired. And my over-active hope gland (I'm starting to believe that most of my hope comes from a glad or something, otherwise, why do I feel so hopeful month after month?) is pushing me to wonder if it's not something else creating this drag.
Mostly, I think it's that I've partially gotten used to the idea that I get to come home and relax for most of the rest of my day, but we've actually been doing stuff.
By the way, I don't fully remember what I did Tuesday, other than read a book until way to late. It's all a little fuzzy.
And now, I think I'm going to play Scrabble again (Ace bought it for me yesterday while we were at Office Depot sending off stuff via UPS). He got Monopoly (2 semi-different copies, but we're going to trade one in on Jeopardy for me). I'm content with my wonderful husband, even if all our running around is taking so much out of me.