72 hours without hot water. My hair itches. I need to bathe and not to carry 6 pots of boiling water up 2 flights of stairs to do so.
Our house is "show ready", yet no one has come to see it.
My clothes are crunchy, but they smell like fresh air - which is nice.
I'm editing for the first time in two weeks. My heart thumps against my chest as I type those words.
I broke the nail on both of my big toes from walking into things today - the wall, a slab of concrete.
I have a paper cut on my right hand that runs from the wrist to my index finger's first knuckle.
I ate too much - comfort eating seems to be my new "thang"
Lost over $600 to this mess - that was from my moving fund
are you hiring?
Think I'll start baking now...
This road has been an interesting one.
No longer being angry. No longer being anything. Just stopping and listening to see what's to be heard.
Its time to observer. The time to react is over - my reactions are getting me nothing but heartburn and sleepless nights. It all happens for a reason.
It all happens for a reason.
It all happens.
All these little moments are experience and depth to another story.
All of these trip lines give me a larger pool to dive into.
I know this much and it's where I'm staying:
=> I live my yoga for it is who I am
=> I will have a published novel
=> I will be in L.A. this fall
=> chocolate covered strawberries are the bomb
Like I said. I'm done.
I've been done hating on my humanity for a while.
Now I'm done stressing over things I can't control.
it is what it is
I am what I am
and Popeye loved spinach (even after that terrible stroke that gave him the terrible speak impediment.)
72 hours... just don't stand down wind of me and we should all be fine.
(ps - this isn't a porn site. but I'm sure you figured that out already. What a let down... huh? ;-) )