I've finished dinner (with my mom) and am re-watching, in the background, the Dragon Tattoo movie, just to take in the scenery I was too stressed out to notice in the first viewing (I get too invested in thrillers. I do. It's weird).
I'm getting ready to tackle some dishes and possibly indulge in a bath.
There is Sunday night chardonnay in my glass, I'm sipping it slowly.
I picked my mom up before noon today (time unfurls to me in the morning with no running plan).
We stopped at a farmer's market on Eastern Avenue, bought some wonderful vegetables, bread. All local, supporting local farmers.
We came back to my loft where my mom helped me clean, to focus on cleaning, to settle on a task, which was a huge help.
We tackled my dining room today, with it's broad table, the floors that needed cleaning, the little bar, my wall unit, with its rows and rows of books.
As of now, the whole dining room is sparkling, the whole wall unit is clean, and all the books have been re-shelved, after having dusted them lovingly. I'm still missing a few key books from my collection (they are on loan to key friends, I know where they are) but as always when I comb through and re-shelve books, I find old ones, like old friends, that you haven't seen in a while, haven't taken in, that you need time to catch up with. I re-ordered all the books, glassware, and framed photos, (I have to get more wedding pictures framed and 'on display'. For who I wonder, though? I'm here on my own most of the time, most of the year).
I've been scrolling around the internet, reading sad news, a sad blog I found, where a big thing has gone wrong, and the writer talks about how insignificant all other things can seem in the wake of that. The flawed unfairness of life.
I'm sitting here, the work-work undone (surprise!) and I keep returning to one main thought and it is:
I'm in a fight with someone, and it doesn't feel right, and I shouldn't do what I'm doing (that is exactly: nothing) but I seem unable to do anything about it, ie, correct it, set it upright, and in this, I feel a great sense of failure. And imperfect-ness and un-inspired-ness and dumb-ass stubborn-ness.
As always, when I get to THIS point in a sitation I also feel completely God-less and unworthy, so we'll call it Sunday night syndrome, I'll trundle off to bed, and deal with the big-life-stuff tomorrow.
My head doesn't seem to have room for it all tonight.