It’s Saturday night and I’m kickin’ it at home in a cozy poncho and leggings. I decided to make Sundays my No Contact “relaxation” day. Allow me to explain.
Yeah, I’m aware it’s not Sunday…yet. I did it today because I felt like it! You’re not the boss of me.
I work 40 hours a week. My work isn’t terribly interesting, and the commute makes me want to move into the dumpster behind my office building. I have friends and I’m pretty friendly with my coworkers.
It’s exhausting. Wearing the mask makes me tired. Sure, I’m friendly and I like people (some of the time). But, I’m not “on” all of the time. I don’t always feel like socializing and being interested in other people’s lives. Sometimes I just wanna get away to read or do my own thing. I can’t do that most of the time because I’m constantly surrounded by people who want to talk to me.
Friday and Saturday nights are spent hanging out with friends, going to parties, or out to restaurants. So naturally, I chose Sunday as my official day of No Contact Decompression. Yup. A selfish day all to myself.
I had one of these days today. I just felt like it. I did all of my chores in the morning, and spent the late afternoon and evening all to myself. I began by shutting off my phone and giving myself a manicure and pedicure. I hate waiting for my nails to dry, so I watched an episode of Mad Men to distract me. Then, when I was absolutely sure that they were dry, I filled up the tub and crawled in with a book. I can’t tell you how amazing those 30 minutes in the tub were. Every tense muscle simply evaporated.
I topped off the night with a nice homemade facial. I boiled a pot of water with chamomile leaves. I sat with my face over the water and a towel over my head. The steam opened my pores and made me sweat–a lot. Then, I mixed a bit of nutmeg with a bit of milk and gently scrubbed my face with it. My skin felt sooo soft.
Now, I’m going to have a glass of red wine, finish my book, and get a nice dose of beauty sleep. Hopefully it’ll make those suitcases under my eyes go away.
This luxurious afternoon was made possible by the absence of my annoying roommate. Her and Kramer (our new neighbour) are having sex now. By the way, I’m officially calling him Kramer because he reminds me of Kramer from Seinfeld. They spend a lot of time together and she’s usually as his place because he lives alone (a.k.a. privacy). I’m a bit of a cock block, I understand.
Cheers to No Contact Sundays (beginning next week)!