Following the two day cleaning spectacular that was a prerequisite to unpacking, my place has at last assumed a pleasingly homey atmosphere. I disparaged at the gluttonous overload of STUFF I had hauled to this temporary interlude but finally, a semblance of order has been instated and I feel downright cozy. The past week-plus since returning from the hedonistic shores of Miami has been a manic montage of errands, tasks, to-do lists, deadlines, and procuring of necessities. Nest properly fluffed, I have been free at last to indulge in my most treasured of past times: a snail's pace morning of breakfast, reading, letter writing, and ever increasing caffeination.
Unable to ever divorce from hyper-thinking, there is A Lot On My Mind. I am ruminating, plotting, ordering, writing. Darlings are being arranged and annihilated. Hoarded preciouses of the literary persuasion, discarded. I am striving for leanness. Fighting weight. Sloughing off of the encumberment of previous selves, styles, intentions, yada yada yada. I am new flesh.
Homesickness has prickled my eyes. I have gasped at the realization that my mountains are hours away, and I am in a region that is somewhere between Southern and Midwestern. Accents are exciting new linguistic labyrinths, and I feel strange, other, and foreign. I feel blank somehow.
And I am delighted.
