There’s a discombobulation thing going on with me. Sometimes I remember to remember, then I forget and I have something like awareness of being strung out, without a clue why. It’s okay. Big life changes and an accumulation of a lot of physical and psychic expenditure way beyond the kid’s regular routines. The it’s, oh yeah, 72 times down the stairs carrying heavy boxes, and back to work at such a tender young age. With a 90-minute on-line training for work in the morning wings, before going to work this morning, and the pick-me-up thought that there’s a couple of dozen organic eggs in our fridge, and coffee later with an interesting guy I haven’t seen for a while, and in the steno pad which pretty much helped keep my alive from the divorce back there foreward, today there’s a rather extensive list of things to do.
It’s just this Wednesday. I have distinct clarity how fortunate I am just getting to wake up and rise again. Another day. Witht its invitations to be kind, and be grateful, and even possibly a teeny bit hip.