Monday April 6

I said a bittersweet goodbye to Miami. In a way, I was strangely relieved. The pulsing whiteness of the hotel, the soft soothing music, the ever-flowing supply of cucumber water, the sun that never got too  hot, beautiful people all around me, it seemed like a very generic version of heaven; that or a really nice limbo. Either way I felt stagnant, placid, I had to constantly remind myself that no, this wasn’t summer and no, napping by the pool for four hours probably wasn’t the best idea. I had this cloud of apprehension hanging over me the whole time, it was a small cloud, but it reminded me that I had SO MUCH WORK TO DO STILL. I felt guilty about wanting to relax and then irritated that I couldn’t enjoy my vacation fully. I had this antsy feeling, like I was bracing myself, ‘cause I knew that as soon I as I got home the work would slam me and the deadline would be looming even closer. I got settled at home around 7ish and started to write. The trip had left my mind somewhat of a blank slate (good if you’re a stressed out businessperson, not good if you’re me and you need to come up with good ideas). I scrolled insta for inspiration for a while, alternating between liking pictures and jotting down ideas. I ended with an ehh draft of a story but it has some good bones. I went to bed just before 6.