*sigh*

I just had a wonderful weekend hanging out with stellar people, mainly writer peeps and the darlingest niece in the world. I did some cleaning, some strategizing and rewriting of the current wip, took a few walks in my orchard, even squeezed in an ice cream run to Cold Stone.

But as bedtime approaches, I feel sad. My weekends are precious to me. I'm not a lazy weekender--I work my butt off. But it's *my* time, *my* work. Now I have to go back to that stupid money-earning stuff.

Goodbye, little weekend. May you rest in peace knowing how much I treasured you.