A post at bedtime
Altho truth be told, most of my posts are done at bedtime-ish.
I'm feeling cozy, having stayed home tonight to clean rather than going out for the sake of it. I like staying at home, dammit! And there's always plenty to do here...even if it doesn't sound like much. It's amazing how many hours cleaning out the desk can take - the keep/toss/read piles are immense, luckily toss is always the largest. I wish I could cut down the time spent saving things that end up getting tossed anyway; cards, articles, etc that I end up shitcanning after saving for six months. I long to be tech-savvy enough to go PAPERLESS. Some day.
The-rapist posed an interesting theory for me to try out today, which is already feeling like a good direction to go down. At first he was trying to make me talk to him like I was him and he was me, and he had just said what I had just said, but I couldn't do that - too hard to externalize what I was feeling, and too self-conscious to analyze it out loud. But it boils down to practicing thinking about things, as abstract as that sounds. Somewhere in between the gulf of the thought and the action, there has to be another step - so we threw a boulder into the creek for me to step on. Sounds reasonable.
I'm still cross at having my lovely Ladies Day hijacked by my friend's friend, who came along to lunch with us and beyond, and filled the entire relaxing day with idiotic nonstop prattle. I can't bear people who are too uncomfortable/insecure to allow silences to exist, and have no filter that prevents them from uttering aloud every single inane thought that passes through their head, without valuation for its interest-level ("These are nice napkins...my straw bends!...is that smoke or fog? I think its fog. No wait it's smoke. Where would smoke be coming from? Is there a fire? I don't smell burning! It must be fog then. Yeah, it's fog. Do you see the fog?") The only fog I could see was the fog behind my eyes caused by murderous rage, or perhaps it was smoke from my grinding teeth trying to restrain myself from screaming Shut the Hell Up, Already. I hate having my day wasted. I was driving home afterwards and almost got broadsided by some a-hole running a red light. What if I'd gotten killed, and that was how I spent my last afternoon on earth? Now I understand why people come back and get their haunt on.
This whole weirdo phase of staying home all the time (at night) and hunkering in will end eventually, I guess. I'm not trying to fight it anymore. Instead I'll just roll along with it for now, and have a super-clean house to relax in.
My, what a shallow post tonight. Perhaps its not quite bedtime, after all.
I'm feeling cozy, having stayed home tonight to clean rather than going out for the sake of it. I like staying at home, dammit! And there's always plenty to do here...even if it doesn't sound like much. It's amazing how many hours cleaning out the desk can take - the keep/toss/read piles are immense, luckily toss is always the largest. I wish I could cut down the time spent saving things that end up getting tossed anyway; cards, articles, etc that I end up shitcanning after saving for six months. I long to be tech-savvy enough to go PAPERLESS. Some day.
The-rapist posed an interesting theory for me to try out today, which is already feeling like a good direction to go down. At first he was trying to make me talk to him like I was him and he was me, and he had just said what I had just said, but I couldn't do that - too hard to externalize what I was feeling, and too self-conscious to analyze it out loud. But it boils down to practicing thinking about things, as abstract as that sounds. Somewhere in between the gulf of the thought and the action, there has to be another step - so we threw a boulder into the creek for me to step on. Sounds reasonable.
I'm still cross at having my lovely Ladies Day hijacked by my friend's friend, who came along to lunch with us and beyond, and filled the entire relaxing day with idiotic nonstop prattle. I can't bear people who are too uncomfortable/insecure to allow silences to exist, and have no filter that prevents them from uttering aloud every single inane thought that passes through their head, without valuation for its interest-level ("These are nice napkins...my straw bends!...is that smoke or fog? I think its fog. No wait it's smoke. Where would smoke be coming from? Is there a fire? I don't smell burning! It must be fog then. Yeah, it's fog. Do you see the fog?") The only fog I could see was the fog behind my eyes caused by murderous rage, or perhaps it was smoke from my grinding teeth trying to restrain myself from screaming Shut the Hell Up, Already. I hate having my day wasted. I was driving home afterwards and almost got broadsided by some a-hole running a red light. What if I'd gotten killed, and that was how I spent my last afternoon on earth? Now I understand why people come back and get their haunt on.
This whole weirdo phase of staying home all the time (at night) and hunkering in will end eventually, I guess. I'm not trying to fight it anymore. Instead I'll just roll along with it for now, and have a super-clean house to relax in.
My, what a shallow post tonight. Perhaps its not quite bedtime, after all.