Thursday I had modest trouble speaking to Jay and with the server at Mad Rona’s, and today I’m back to being pretty much locked up. But hey, I’m still happy. I see signs of growth in my garden and we had some sunshine, briefly, this morning. Plus I’m really loving that my ability to concentrate seems better; I’m thrilled to be reading for several hours every day.
I love escaping into Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections. It’s just over six hundred pages long, and I’m only at page 293, so I’ve got several more days of delicious reading to go. It’s a great, fun read and I love the author’s brilliant vocabulary and wit.
Today is the end of my third week without any Marijuana. I’m terribly proud of myself (if I may brag a little).
My yard looks like a tornado hit it. I have so much work to do to get it back into shape, but I want warm weather—or at least warmer and sunny weather—to do it. Once cooperative weather comes, I’ll be able to fill my days with yard work and regain pride in Pinecone Park.
I’m journaling for the mental health nurse. I do it every day and I’m looking forward to her feedback. It’s an interesting exercise but I’m not sure I’m doing exactly what she wants. Staying home alone assures me of no “indulgences” (her word for my anxiety attacks) so I cannot parse causation. Still, I find things worthy of note to write about; hence my interest in her reaction next Tuesday.
Shelly and Kevin, my neighbours, have an eighteen-year-old daughter who pets sits. Her name is Hannah and her proximity has the potential to enrich my life in that it’s going to be easy for me to go to the city or to Vancouver Island for excursions and some excitement.
|What should we call it? A Horbra or a Zorse?|