Today feels good — not loud or dramatic good, just quietly nourishing in the way I’ve been craving.
There’s been talk all day of an amber warning for snow, a sense of anticipation hanging in the air, even though it hasn’t quite arrived. Still, the possibility alone has slowed everything down. It’s given permission to pause, to soften the edges of a busy week.
I leaned into that feeling and chose care. Real, intentional self-care. Nails done. Eyebrows reshaped. Tan applied. Hair dye on — even if the roots are still whispering you’ll deal with me later. None of it is about perfection. It’s about feeling looked after, even if I’m the one doing the looking after.
Tonight, I’m cwtched up in bed. Clean sheets. Fresh pyjamas. A cuppa warming my hands while The Traitors plays in the background. The youngest is asleep, the heating is on, and the house feels calm and safe. I feel warm. I feel comfortable. I feel relaxed — especially for a Thursday evening.
This is the kind of stillness I’ve needed since returning to work at the beginning of the week. The kind that doesn’t demand anything from me. The kind that reminds me I’m allowed to rest without earning it.
I’m quietly hoping the snow does arrive — not for disruption, but for the gift of a few more unplanned moments of calm over the weekend. A reason to stay in, to slow down, to hold onto this feeling just a little longer.
Tonight, self-care isn’t a checklist.
It’s a moment.
And it’s enough.
Between what was and what's next 