It's been a long, strange weekend. Work has been quiet for the most part, the pool season's over, and yet I'm restless.  Maybe it's because I'm used to the excitement that comes with a busy queue at work, maybe because I'm used to the low-level pressure that exists with living in Manhattan.  Maybe it's demons from the past.

I'm taking time, trying to relax, knowing that this lull won't last, and readying for the 2 upcoming weddings/showers/etc. Why is this so difficult?  I don't have an answer for that, just the underlying baseline stress that's in my genes.