It doesn't seem like Christmas. That might be good because the holidays are always a bit . . . sideways . . . but I do enjoy them and wish I felt like decorating. As it is, I would rather watch back to back marathons of the Real Housewives for a week than disturb my unpacking flow by getting Christmas crap out and putting it all over my place. (That's not true, actually.) It gives me hives to even think about. I'll miss reading by Christmas tree light - something I enjoy every year - but maybe I can find a way to make the house a little festive without messing it up. Can't. Mess up. Newly organized house.
I'm in a weird place personally. I'm gaining weight, which is always my way of trying to protest something. I'm meeting lots of guys and having serial dating disasters. That's no good. I'm moody as a son of a gun. I feel really closed off. I think I need to settle in and stop attending to the to do list and just let the past year-ish catch up with me. Not be busy. I also need to open myself up and share with friends. I'm not good at that but when I do it, it feels really right and it almost always helps. My sewing room is coming along and I've set up my machine at the dining room table in the meantime. It's felt really good to sew again. Setting up a new house alone is a great exercise in identity; every decision asks, "What do I want?" or "What do I like?" Those are good questions for me to think about and act on. I'm severely sleep deprived, but working my way back to semi-normalcy. I cancelled a few trips I had in December to just stay put and feel my feet in my shoes. This is a good place for me to be right now.
|I finally finished those 20 zipper pouches someone ordered. I even got them done early. |
Sayonara, 20 pouches. I'm sick of you.