My Happy Place

They've taken away my happy place.

I used to have my writing space set up next to the sliding glass doors so I could see out into the yard while I'm writing. There was a mulberry bush that was nearly as tall as a tree and it kind of blocked me from my neighbor looking in and I had a bird feeder hanging in it.

They cut down the mulberry bush. Now there's no place to hide from my neighbor and there's no place for my bird feeder.

Oh, the trunk is still there but there's not a branch or a leaf left on it. Now it's not a happy place. It's sad and pathetic and it makes me so mad I can't think coherently.

So, I moved all my writing stuff to a corner in the living room by the windows. Now my view is the back of my husband's easy chair and the mini blinds on the window. Not a bad view, but not a tree with a bird feeder and a flock of Chipping Sparrows.

My happy place is gone, taken away by my rotten property manager.

This blog post is my official wish that someone takes her happy place away so she can feel like I do right now.

A Strange Bit of Insight

I had a creepy thought the other day. The kind that makes your soul blink back at you like it's not sure what your brain just said, but surely it couldn't be what it thought it heard.

I can understand how someone could fall into an eating disorder. I sometimes like the feeling of being hungry so much that I don't want to eat to make it stop.

Yup, this is the level of weird I've achieved.

Now, before anyone panics, I'm not going to become anorexic. It's just that I realized that if you're not conscious of what's happening, your mind can fuck with you in ways you never imagined. Ultimately, you need to be aware of the terrain so you don't fall into an old mine shaft and have to spend time and money on therapy to climb out of it.

Forced Slowdown

I'm sick.

I'm not going to complain about it though. I think I need this right now. I feel like I've done nothing but push, push, push lately and I need to coast for a bit. It's been a long time since I've felt so bad that I wanted to stay in bed all day, but that's where I'm at and I think I'm going to give in to it today. Well, except for laundry and cooking and dishes. To me those aren't chores, they're part of being alive. Like breathing.

Anyway.

Usually Saturday is for cleaning the house with Jack and Pandora. (If I make it fun, it goes faster and I actually do a better job.) Luckily, I have a man who isn't hung up on a perfectly clean house. (A life full of dogs and a kid and all his friends will make you easier going than you thought you could be.) If he has clean socks and underwear, he's happy. This Saturday will be for dishes and laundry and podcasts and catching up on my fitness videos on YouTube.

I do have a party to go to tonight and that's another reason to take it easy. We're going late and not staying long, but I'd like to try to enjoy this. (I'm not contagious. I have a UTI.) If I can score some extra sleep between loads of laundry and video watching, then I'll be ready to have a little fun.

So the point of this ramble is that I'm not happy that I'm sick, but I'm grateful because I need a break from myself. I don't need to run or workout or clean the whole house or work on Novel 4 today. I need rest without guilt and that's the gift I'm giving myself.

I need new slippers.

(I fall off the wagon and drag myself back on more than anyone I know. Sheesh. Sorry.)

I hate these slippers. I've had them for over a year now and because I'm a cheapskate, I won't just buy new ones because I don't like them. I want them to die first so I can justify sending them to the landfill graveyard. They're beyond the point where I would give them to the Thrift Store to make fifty cents off of, so that's not an option either. Die they must.

They're cute, don't get me wrong, but they're too loud. They're those ones that don't have anything to attach them to your heel, so when you walk, the heel of the slipper slaps and drags over the floor. I couldn't sneak up on a deaf person in these things. Not that that's the goal, but I can't pace in them without everyone hearing me and I need to pace and they're too damn loud. Even I can't stand to listen to the chck-shhh, chck-shhh, chck-shhh a thousand times.

Yeah, it's a little thing. And yeah, for twelve bucks or so I could get ones that don't drag the floor. When I get fed up enough I'll do it. In the meantime, I'm trying to walk them to death so I don't have to feel guilty for sending them to the slipper Underworld. But I can only walk in them so long before I have to give up and put my gym shoes on so I don't have to listen to myself pace. I'm already crazy, I don't need to drive myself further over the edge over a pair of slippers and how they sound when I walk.

You can file this under "First World Problems" for sure.