Stages of decompression when I get home:
Stop in the driveway, sit back, listen to music and Brian barking in the driveway and revel in the fact that I'm not at work anymore.
Pet all my dogs and praise them on the way to the door.
Greet my family, or if I'm home alone, check out all the animals and the garden before I go in. Take deep breaths because I'm home.
Take off my shoes. Ahh!
Pick up Veronica and turn her upside-down, tickle her tummy and play with her feet. (For new readers, Veronica aka The Poop is a cat.) Let her up on my shoulders and walk around the house with her. Put on my music if I'm home alone.
Check my email. Take off my socks if it's warm, put on my slippers if it's cold. Ahhh!
Make and/or eat food. Yum!
Open up the doors and windows if it's a beautiful evening.
Write, design, do art, listen to music, or play Bejeweled ... sometimes all at once.
Take off my bra and put on snuggly sweat pants.
Write/work/play some more, until I'm sleepy.
Bath with fragrant, luxurious soap, and bed. Decompression complete!
Because it takes all night, having lots of days working at my day job in a row or just one day off (split weekends) are tough. My day off doesn't start when I leave work, but when I wake up in the morning. And now I'm laughing because I'm imagining doing my decompression routine extra fast. Veronica would not be a happy kitteh at all!
My tweets - - *Mon, 14:56*: an interesting take on the all-white-male photos = it's on purpose https://t.co/enHRH8UBuc - *Mon, 17:55*: Whaaaaaaaaaat?!?!?...
20 hours ago