It’s all loading. I can think of twenty titles.
Tomorrow, we need better pants. Today’s pants were not comfortable. I tried for some old ones that formerly fit. They did not precisely this time around, but I was tired and irritable at having not had a day off since Thanksgiving and not having one scheduled until possibly well after mid-month. I just wanted to leave, but I spent the whole day awkwardly attired. This is the reason the diet needs to start January 1. Not for love, not for fame and glory, but for comfort. It’s a sensible decision, not a vain one.
We will have a newly made bed to relax in tonight. That is going to feel as good as gold.
Once we get our time off, I have such plans to whip this place into shape. It’s just clothes, really, and maybe, somehow I can track down all of my other winter clothes. I must have more than what I have even after giving so much away last year. I swear there are sweaters upon sweaters.
I sent my letter to the therapist, the therapist replied, nobody died. She was kindly supportive, but not excessively familiar. I won’t send this place to her, because she is busy with other people, some of whom have the sorts of troubles that make my complaints alike to having got my hand stuck in the cookie jar. The only real advice she needs to give me is just to let go. I don’t want to take up extra time just because it would be nice to have the attention.
I was exceedingly grumpy today. I am better now. Having eaten all the leftovers there are, save the clementines, which I will eat the moment there’s, ahem, room. I am also delighting in the swimming costumes featured in this particular episode of Miss Phryne Fisher’s Murder Mysteries and tweeting psychotically at all my friends about how lovely the show is and how lovely certain characters are whilst sporting those costumes. I will be grumpy again. Mark my words. But having better pants would help. It is a victory, the therapist said, every time you set this guilt aside.
Two hundred words to say…I know that I am on lockdown right now…emotionally. I know that I am cloistered away, in sweatpants and an undone face and I just don’t feel free to invite anyone in. But I also know that I am working on it, I haven’t put the sword and shield down and called a forfeit. I am hacking away. Maybe I just need to remind myself of that, too. I am still driving, still stopping to bring on the anticipated panic at anticipated intersections, but I am getting home every night. I am managing to make it, snowfall or no. I am not collapsing beneath anything. I am setting aside the monument, the globe is rolling off my shoulders, and for a time, all I am is myself. Free and clear.
I caught a breath of free and clear today and it frightened me with its beauty.
I go chasing it now.