Hey, guys! Remember when I used to write a blog?
Apparently, all it takes to vault me from “obsessive daily poster” to “woman too exhausted to even think in full sentences” is a wedding weekend, a chest cold, and a week alone at home with our dog without my husband. I feel like I haven’t been home and conscious since my husband left last Friday. Urgh. Today marked the second day this week that I came home to find the dog I left out in the yard in the morning inside the house in the afternoon, chilling on the couches she’s no longer allowed to touch while we’re home. She can officially leap from a sitting position on the ground in the yard through the cat flap in a window to get back into the house. Today, though, she threw me a bone (!) and didn’t pee all over the place while she was trapped inside. Thank God for small miracles.
For the most part, I’ve been so tired/introspective/crazed that I haven’t had time to get really fired up about anything. At least not fired up enough to force all of you to read about it. I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching lately (like, for real) and have been making a concerted effort to be grateful for and satisfied with all the very many wonderful things I have in my life. I am trying to remove the panicked desire to immediately have more money or more education or more impressive materials. Constantly feeling dissatisfied with what I have is, in truth, pretty disgusting, when you consider that I get to live in Los Angeles and have a job I love and a husband I adore and awesome family nearby. It’s even more disgusting when you consider that everyone I love is healthy and happy, and that there are families all over the world dealing with utter devastation as a way of life. I am a remarkably lucky duck and I think it’s about time that I start thanking Mother Earth every damn day for the opportunity I have to be where I am. I’ve spent a very long time in a sort of suspended animation – too disappointed in myself and my “failure” to meet other people’s standards to be happy and too anxious about moving forward to actually move forward. And now, to that I say: enough already.
When I pick up my husband from the airport tomorrow, I’ll be radiating so much positive energy, he won’t even recognize me.
“Happiness is an inside job.”
—The license plate frame on a stranger’s car
(Also, you creeps, I really am getting some guest posts together. From actual people. Please don’t ask me if they are people I know in person that I have strong-armed into doing this, because the answer will embarrass me. If you’re interested, please let me know. I would really enjoy not having to think of something to write about.)