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"the finish line is a shifty thing"
Jan. 19th, 2018 10:30 pm Home sick today, camped out in bed with my computer and a scattered mind. I have at least discovered that making David’s Tea Pumpkin Chai with JP Licks’ Burnt Sugar Cinnamon as a creamer is a more than passable facsimile of a chai latte. It’s not as good as heading to the Peabody Essex with Delight, but few things would be.
I’m lost and listless, still. I have too many books, I don’t know which ones to put in storage, I have too many clothes I don’t wear anymore, too many spices I haven’t used in too long. There’s another seventeen loads of laundry to do, Light and Abundance are sick and Abundance leaves tomorrow for a week overseas. I’m failing everyone in this house, partners, cats and dog, by not training the dog to leave the cats alone.
And I’m tired and I feel sorry for myself, and that doesn’t make anything easier.
I’m trying to fit my grow-light back into my life, I’m trying to fit the gym back into my life, I think I maybe need to start going to bed at like 8:30, but then I’ll never get to see Light and that makes me sad too. And it’s 10:15 now, and both of the boys have gone to bed, and I’m here pecking away at the computer, reading articles about sexual assaults and feeling like since I already broke the “dark by 9:30” rule I set myself, I should maybe just stay up all night.
But Coolidge’s birthday party is tomorrow and I need to get up early enough to pack some decaf teas (he wants to have a tea-party birthday party), hit porter square to buy him a present so that I can drive an hour out to the suburbs, where my parents will see my new extremely visible tattoo and awkwardness will be had by all, then to come home, see Abundance off to the airport, think about going to book group but probably not and spend my saturday night watching bad netflix horror movies and cross-stitching.
I did a bunch of dishes this morning. I took the tree down yesterday, swept a bunch, dismantled most of Nonsense’s cardboard stash so we can begin re-creating it assured no cats have peed in it. (My dog has a box of cardboard that she can go fetch a piece out of to destroy when she needs to self-soothe. I envy her this, but ripping cardboard to shreds is nowhere near as comforting for me as throwing crockery against the uprights of the SEPTA system used to be.( I do still have mild firebug feelings, something burning might be really nice right now but I don’t smoke and I don’t have a fireplace and I’m fairly committed to not doing anything blatantly illegal or damaging to property. ))
I’m lost and listless, still. I have too many books, I don’t know which ones to put in storage, I have too many clothes I don’t wear anymore, too many spices I haven’t used in too long. There’s another seventeen loads of laundry to do, Light and Abundance are sick and Abundance leaves tomorrow for a week overseas. I’m failing everyone in this house, partners, cats and dog, by not training the dog to leave the cats alone.
And I’m tired and I feel sorry for myself, and that doesn’t make anything easier.
I’m trying to fit my grow-light back into my life, I’m trying to fit the gym back into my life, I think I maybe need to start going to bed at like 8:30, but then I’ll never get to see Light and that makes me sad too. And it’s 10:15 now, and both of the boys have gone to bed, and I’m here pecking away at the computer, reading articles about sexual assaults and feeling like since I already broke the “dark by 9:30” rule I set myself, I should maybe just stay up all night.
But Coolidge’s birthday party is tomorrow and I need to get up early enough to pack some decaf teas (he wants to have a tea-party birthday party), hit porter square to buy him a present so that I can drive an hour out to the suburbs, where my parents will see my new extremely visible tattoo and awkwardness will be had by all, then to come home, see Abundance off to the airport, think about going to book group but probably not and spend my saturday night watching bad netflix horror movies and cross-stitching.
