I found it. I found the thing that's going to make me whole again after a week of running around with my foot on the gas. I have developed a Sunday afternoon ritual, and I call it: the bath.
Now, I'm a shower-type-person by nature. But I think that's largely, and perhaps unfairly, due to the time factor. About a month ago, I dug out the aromatherapy apothecary kit that I got for Christmas '07 and put it to good use. Sea salt mixed with eucalyptus essential oil, peppermint leaves, a mandarin masque and blood orange sugar rub, milk soap, lemon-sage lotion and a mug of chamomile tea later, I was convinced that I would never be angry with anyone again. I felt incapable of anger.
So this is my new love. And it's a great, great love. A true and perfect love. I haven't missed a Sunday since then, and if you're not treating yourself to a sinfully long soak every once in a while, I say shame on you. Heed your shampoo bottle and wash, rinse, repeat.