It’s Monday.  Monday is here.  The weekend was, and it is no more, and now it’s Monday.  So.  Here we go.  I’m feeling excessively blah these days – probably as a result of the busiest month I’ve had at work in I-can’t-remember-how-long.  I knew it was going to be miserable, but I didn’t know just how miserable it would be.  Last week, I billed – billed – sixty hours, and that’s with taking Monday off.  I missed bedtime on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, and I was getting up at 4:00 a.m. to work and working until 10:00 or 11:00 p.m. with almost no breaks.  And that includes the weekend.  On Saturday, I got up at zero-dark-hundred (4:00 again) and started working, and I’d billed more than three hours before anyone woke up.  Kept the work going more or less steadily all day, minus the kiddos’ swim lessons, a much-needed nap, and a trip to Carter’s to pick up school pants for a certain young man who tears through knees on almost a weekly basis.  On Sunday, I probably should have worked again, but I was exhausted and staring down the barrel of a weeklong business trip to Dallas (and it’s going to be a stressful, high-stakes, high-tension one) so I just bummed around the house with the kids.  It rained all day, so we knocked around doing rainy day activities, including playing catch in the bedroom (don’t tell Steve).  Ended the weekend not in the usual way – on a plane, Dallas-bound.  Wish me luck, guys.

Reading.  As you can probably guess from the 60-hour billing week, it was a sloooooooow reading week.  I only had a few minutes each night to read before crashing, and I was usually too tired to do more than just mindlessly scroll through Instagram, so very little reading happened.  I made incremental progress in Wives and Daughters and feel like I’ve barely started.  The only thing I was actually able to finish this week was the latest issue of Slightly Foxed – an escape into a saner, more literary world and very much needed.  On Sunday night, setting Wives and Daughters aside in favor of a library book with a deadline, I started The Secrets We Kept on the plane to Dallas.  Too soon to tell, but Reese’s book club tends to be pretty reliable.

Listening.  Pretty much the only thing that gave me joy this week was listening to The Great Courses “History of Medieval England” lecture series on Audible.  I looked forward to zoning out with my coffee and the wreck of the White Ship on the Metro, and I don’t care who knows it.  The only downside?  My co-workers now think I’m a total dork, just because I said “This witness is going to collapse like an Anglo-Saxon shield wall at the Battle of Hastings.”  What?

Watching.  Not much.  Jurassic Park (a classic) on the couch with Nugget.  That’s about it.  Mostly, I watched my favorite month slip away into a haze of billable hours and heated exchanges with opposing counsel.

Making.  Nothing at all, unless you count lots and lots and lots of work product.  And the to-do list never gets shorter, either.

Blogging.  Another Classics Club review for you on Wednesday, and the final PNW travel recap on Friday.  I’m always sad to wrap up recaps of a great trip, but it’s time.  And time to start thinking about the inevitable question: where to next?  There’s something in the works, but I don’t know yet.

Loving.  My tomato plant, after struggling along and doing basically nothing all summer, has suddenly exploded with little ruby-red tomatoes.  How?  It is challenging everything I thought I knew about tomatoes.  For instance, it’s been chilly and rainy this week, and yet – there they are, those little heat-loving gems.  Nugget and I grab one every time we walk out the back door, and it’s been such a treat to see them winking at me from among the inexplicably green and vibrant leaves.  (I had two tomato plants.  The other one is a dried-up husk.  Mystery.)

Asking.  What are you reading this week?