Last week was all go, and it all went rather well, thank goodness. After the visitors left yesterday afternoon I was shattered, and spent the rest of the day sitting around reading (short stories, Guardian Weekend magazine, local paper), chatting (an hour on the phone with a much-loved old friend), eating dinner (lovely spicy tangy gnocchi with red onions, olives, capers and chillies, cooked by my aforementioned Paramour, bless him), and then watching two whole hours of TV with him (Hugh F-W and Top Gear - that's how tired I was) and doing a bit of crochet.
This morning I feel rested, rejuvenated and cheerful. A bit fizzy, in fact; as if something lovely is going to happen. Which it almost certainly isn't - but it's nice feeling this way, anyway, so I don't care. What is going to happen, at least according to my diary, is a fairly tranquil week, with enough work but not too much, a few short trips here and there, and a lovely meeting with lots of blogfriends at the week's end. Also, I should have time to fit in an hour's work on my book every morning. I managed two one-hour sessions of editing last week, and got a surprisingly large amount done in that time, which was very pleasing indeed.