I found as I sat down at the blank screen tonight that I should have something more profound to share... and then I realized something: this inconsequential Sunday was a a perfect character in the play of my week. She was quiet and slow starting; a supporting actress so-to-speak who gently glided her way into my heart. I may have had my initial judgments, wanting to have more from her hushed demeanor than the seeming monotony of sun arching then setting. In retrospect she gave a brilliant performance that could only be absorbed by those looking to the periphery of the stage.
Nothing really happened too significant. A few things made me stomach laugh; my husband getting stuck in his jacket; my daughter doing a 'walk like an Egyptian' dance while hula hooping; trying to get a photo of my dog only to get pushed over into the snow when she pummeled me; Cammie and I making a fort underneath the kitchen island with sheets and blankets only to get raided by a grown man in his skivvies becoming the tickle monster.
When was the last time you were critical of yourself for not doing enough? Do you feel like a day is only of meaning if it is also productive?
Overeating, under eating, binge eating, and emotional eating can all be derived from an inconsequential Sunday (or any day of the week) if we let it. You may be in the house all day, only feet away from a smorgasbord of snacks, meals and decadence that feel like are the only things to do. Stop and remember that sometimes doing nothing is okay. You have my permission.
Nat
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