I am not doing well. And while I call this my Happy Place and all that dreamy jazz, I have really been faking it lately.
A patent fury bubbles beneath my mental surface and I struggle to find the Good. I want to rant, not rave these days. And then, I find myself resisting the urge to issue diatribes over such mundane topics as folks in my neighborhood who do not recycle.
I am not a topical nor an entertainment blogger. This place is primarily a diary of sorts where I am my very own Audience of One. And I would be remiss to not at least reference this particularly difficult time for me. Besides, the pretense otherwise is wearing on me. I am bored with writing post after post after post in a gauzy, soft-focus perspective.
And yes, I am totally pulling the Dramatic Card. We are healthy, the children are fine, X's business is doing well. Everything is fine, just fine.
But still. I never want to forget this particular period of time. The anger at my friend's cancer, the disgust at family members rabidly picking through my great-aunt's possessions, the weariness of trudging through yet another day.
I need to remember it.
Continue as you were and ignore the dithering idiot.