Late Afternoon Blues

When Big Cuter was 4 months old we signed up for a Mommy and Me class.  It was self-preservation on my part; the class was held from 3:30-5pm.  Appropriately, it was named The Witching Hour Class.
 
Unless I'm on a beach surrounded by those I love, late afternoons are my sorriest time of day.  I can rev up again around dinner time, but you really don't want to be around me as the day is winding down. 

It's winter-time here in the desert southwest, which means I have 6 weeks to wear all my woolens and all my jackets and all my sweaters before teh temperatures wend their way back up to the 70's by February.  It was in the 50's this afternoon; I wore pants, fleece lined boots, a flannel long sleeved shirt and a polar fleece jacket.  I seriously considered bringing my gloves and my hat.

The rain filled the garbage can as it stood, lid flapping helplessly, banging against the container, as the storm went on and on.  The recycling can had been blown over by the wind; I really do need two good legs to right a heavy, unweildly item. I did it, but it wasn't easy.

In junior high and high school, the 4-6pm time slot would find me next door, on the floor, in front of the tv with my 2-years-older-cousin, watching Million Dollar Movie and observing her careful perusal of the latest shades of nailpolish displayed on the inside cover of Seventeen Magazine.  Nobody argued in her house.  Nobody had any expectations of me.  It was as close to peaceful in the late afternoon as I ever remember feeling. 

For a while I filled the time with exercise classes.  I remember Jacquie telling me to smile, that my grin would make the time fly by.  I still noticed every one of the 60 minutes of aerobic flailing, but I looked like I was having a good time.  It was a charade.

Working full-time, often til 6pm, the late afternoon was generally a time to clean up my desk and prepare for the evening's entertainment.  Lately, I have been trying to avoid my 5 o'clock blues by opting for a similar regimen.  The lady who organized my desk reluctantly agreed to a square inbox to collect bills and other items which must be dealt with but which will take more than 2 minutes to file/pay/fill out/mail/read.

I am trying to spend this part of the day working through its contents.

Of course, the cocktail to the right is a big help.

The next time my kids give me grief for being so cheery early in the morning, I'll remind them of my grumpy late afternoon self.  It's all a matter of perspective, I think.