I'm on vacation all week. When people at work asked what I was doing on vacation, I said, "Well, I'm turning forty on Monday, and I'm taking the rest of the week to recover."
Really what I'm doing is taking a week off to make this place look less like I'm living in a warehouse. I Twittered to my sister sometime this past week that it feels like I'm living in a fort made out of cardboard boxes.
Step one: Measure for curtains!
Step two: Finish the second coat of paint in the living room!
Step three: For pity's sake, set up the craft room already.
That all starts tomorrow. Today I'm going out to lunch and the movies, and at some point I'm going to wander around the neighborhood. There's a park a few blocks over that I keep meaning to visit and never quite manage to get to. Must remember to bring the camera.
Everyone oohs and aahs over the years that end in zero, and I don't get why. I'm only a day older than I was yesterday.
That doesn't sound like denial or rationalization at all, does it?