If you know me at all, you know the most difficult thing for me to do is to sit still. It's never caused me any problems, at least not with grades or work. The problem comes with my inability to relax when I need it most. This past weekend, I did my best to sit in a chaise lounge, poolside, and read.
It's a rough life, I know, to be housesitting in a gorgeous home in Prospect, a home complete with a beautiful pool, sliding board, and palm tree. (Yes, a palm tree!) Still, when I showed up, I was a big ball of stress, listing problem after problem, frustrated about RSVPs, frustrated about people not responding, frustrated about people responding with children or people who weren't originally invited (how do you explain that without sounding like a jerk?!), people breaking promises, homes in disrepair, wanting to take a honeymoon, but being completely out of money. There I go again listing not even half of the stresses, and I can feel my blood pressure rise.
The point is that I really tried my best this weekend to not think about any of those things. It's an impossible task -- to keep your mind off something particular -- but it's made easier with books.
So I lounged poolside, sipped a mojito, and read four books between Friday morning and Sunday evening. They weren't Russian novels or anything, so don't be too impressed. Two were terrible chick-lit (not romance, but not very deep), one a memoir, and another "Ask the Pilot," a book designed to help me with my newly-acquired fear of flying, but which really just gave me solid reason to be afraid. Still, 1300 pages (I keep track obsessively on GoodReads in a fiercely competitive battle with my dad) in a weekend felt good, something I haven't done in ages. I even made time for plenty of nachos, mojito refills, swimming, and a couple of movies.
My mind was assuaged only slightly, but it was enough to make me feel excited rather than stressed about all that I have to do. I love being busy, and, though I would prefer to be busy making records and touring and singing, I am trying to remember to be happy for an even better reason: that I get to marry David.
The wedding is only the tiniest bit of the stress, believe it or not, but I'm reminding myself that this is a really happy and fun time. He is amazing at keeping me calm, even when he's got similar anxiety over that silly party we're throwing. Everyone keeps reminding us the reason for the party, and I am trying to do the same thing. It's an adventurous time, and if he and I love nothing else, we love adventure. And the library.