I am not going to feel guilty about not working (much) over the Thanksgiving holiday. I’m not. Nothing is so pressing (yet) that it can’t wait until Monday. I am entitled to have a few days off. Yeah, who am I kidding?
I do feel guilty, even though I went into work on Saturday where I wrote reading questions for our last book, wrote the final exam for my graduate class, and worked on merging data files. I spent 6 quality hours in the office. I thought about going back today, but I just don’t feel like it. Instead, I’m sitting here playing Mousehunt on Facebook, merging the reading notes for my book project into a OneNote file, and tickling the cat with my toes. Earlier today, I assembled the stoup and watched The Coach put up our sad little outdoor Christmas lights. It’s been a full day. I should not feel guilty.
But that Catholic sense of guilt is nagging me, even though I have mashed it down a couple of times.
You know, fuck it. I had other things that had to get done over the five day (gasp) weekend. Two days’ worth of cooking for the in-laws. Christmas shopping on Black Friday. Videos from Netflix to watch and return. Twilight and Bolt to see. Sleep. Play with the dogs. Read my biography of Oppenheimer, which is incredibly interesting (and useful for a class I want to develop). I will not feel guilty.
