Tuesday morning, I was tight as a drum. I was virtually mute and had a rough time “settling” with Kevin and at the dealership. Yesterday morning, I was back to fluency with my fellow dog walkers. Everything was back to normal—except for the dead bird I found in the hallway. How did that happen?
Driving to and from the dog walk and the store was joyous. The seat in my new car has me much higher off the ground; getting in and out is phenomenally easier. And it heats up! And it’s sooooo smoooooth.
I did my shopping and came home to work on the floors in my dining room and kitchen. The floors needed some TLC and I installed new pads on the bottoms of all my chair legs. Then another dog walk, a lovely spa in spectacular sunshine, fabulous forest perfume and birdsong before dinner and bed.
Late in the afternoon, fog settled on us like a roosting brood hen. I watched it descend, creating a beautiful but eerie atmosphere in the forest. I added a large freshly chopped half-log to the fire and felt nice and warm and cozy. It feels so good
Woo fucking hoo! I’ve subscribed to National Theatre at Home (NAT) and I now can stream magnificently filmed presentations of their stage productions. NAT offered several productions free on YouTube when the pandemic began and all I saw were extraordinary (I’m not a Shakespeare fan remember); their production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is now one of my favourite plays that I’ve ever seen staged!
The streaming service is seventeen dollars a month or a hundred and seventy-three per year. I started with a monthly membership to see if the catalogue changes each month, and I began watching American in Paris … and weeping. Perfect theatrical artistry absolutely stupefies me. I am rendered helpless.
Prior to my breakdown, I never had a feeling about a day. Every day felt the same. I’d have emotional reactions to events of the day, but not about the day itself. But I do now.
I get up in the morning and attend to all my essential chores: feeding the pets, lighting the fire, cleaning and tidying the kitchen and litter box, making the bed. Then I get my two pieces of toast and my drink, and I sit down at my computer. And I write.
I write emails, my post, an essay or I’ll work on an unfinished essay from my past, and if I want to have some fun, I’ll do a writing exercise. I wrote for hours just like I always have, but now no money comes in.
It’s when I sit down to write, that I experience the first pause of the day. No duty demands my concentration and I can ponder a subject for my post. That turns me inward for inspiration, and my firsts consciousness is of how I feel: joy/excitement is always when I feel on a sunny day; a common feeling on any day is contentment. Some days, I’m overwhelmed by anxiety/tension.
The miracle is that my feeling is never negative; I’m never depressed unless life delivers something that warrants it.
I’ve a little more shopping to do today; the rest of the day I’ll be cleaning up in the yard and shed and chopping some wood. It’s lovely, clear and bright right now, but I do see distant clouds approaching. The fire is high.