It’s autumn for reals which means things begin to die and break. Like summer, my box fan, the brand new blender I used almost once before smoke billowed out of the motor, the bumper of my car, and the starter on my mower (the replacement part came yesterday and I’m gonna figure out how to fix that asap). These things are not as colorful as the leaves on the trees. It’s much harder to see the beauty in crap that doesn’t work or has just given up the ghost.
Other things broken include communication with people who still hold me responsible for all their misery. Sorry, I’m just over here doing the best I can. I refuse to be someone’s punching bag. Get a therapist, like I do! Do something constructive with your time! I’m not your problem. I will not be your scapegoat.
There are always lots of things in various states of doing around the house and the broken things that need fixing or replacing just add to that list. I’m contemplating whether I have time to take a second (part-time) job. Probably not. I’m supposed to be writing. I did write this week. My blogs are suffering as I revisit my novel.
My morning pages were interrupted this morning by a tick that hopped off Franklin and onto me and then….disappeared so now I’m completely paranoid and just want to burn the house down and start over because it could be anywhere by now. Lurking, waiting. To kill me. My clean robe – the last place I saw it – will have to be rewashed and dried on the hottest temps before I’ll consider putting it on tomorrow morning. Ticks are the WORST. Blech.
My garden is teetering on the edge. I took down the final basil bush and turned it into pre-pesto but I haven’t pulled everything else up, laid the cover crop seed, brought in all the supports yet.
I’m working on fixing it so Dusty can go to Boston in the spring with the band. Plan A hasn’t come through yet so I’m working on Plan B and C at the moment. It’s been at the cost of recrimination and sanctimonious blather but I’m finding that I’m better able to fend it off, that my teflon is thicker than it once was. And luckily Dusty’s stained glass pieces are selling (there are still some left – go back a post to see them). So we might be able to swing the deposit after all.
I’m making appointments that will fix my hair, my spine, my busted arm (which is better but needs a tune up), my psyche, my eyes. I’m meditating. I’ve found a good book to read. I’m doing. Prioritizing. Trying not to feel guilty when I’m not doing, when I’m just sitting and reading and basking in the quiet as the evening descends and the house hums with homework being done, with bodies I love breathing and thinking in their rooms. With all of us tucked in and safe as the night sky opens up and envelops us in stars.