the ice

It might have been nice to go back to the coast for Mother’s Day.
The idea provides the tiniest modicum of relief from some kind of disembodied waste, probably orchestrated by bots for all I know.

As it is I have an appointment at the hospital tomorrow for something my panic merchant doctor wants to get checked out.… Read the rest

shifting sands

Something quite different about the quality of my energy today.

The day sits on a foundation of optimism that is invigorating… purposeful.

What can I do with this time?

Tucked up in my cosy house, with the rain pouring outside. … Read the rest

big yawwwwwn

I have just finished work for the evening.

What a messy night of duplicate tables, stalling imports and an abundance of errors. . .
I need to imbibe my mind and my soul with classical and ambient music, and wash the uncomfortable senses of this day away with a sensory feast of beauty and calm.… Read the rest

for fun

The night is young, and I am pondering therapeutic things that I can do with the time.

Life is such a gift.

My house feels so good. It is such a pleasure to do the minimal work that it takes to keep it looking good.… Read the rest

maybe another time

What to write about when everything I could say feels too intimate for people who show me nothing of theirs?

I will give myself the time it takes to drink a cup of matcha gazing out at the blustery, wintry weather, to try to find one thing I feel comfortable sharing.… Read the rest

so so

I can tell that tomorrow is going to be a difficult day.

I have already hit a wall.

The tightrope of perimenopause eating does not leave a lot of room for error.

Although to be fair, one beer and two different glasses of red wine with a bowl of meaty pasta (it was a special), was probably pretty far from the mark!… Read the rest

windows next

Feeling like being creative,
And not sure what form that should take.

Arranging my home is a kind of creativity,
It feels like a completely different space with floorboards.

There is still quite a bit of stuff packed away in my bathroom,
Because Claude feels sure that my darker walnut bookshelf doesn’t belong.… Read the rest

piquant, novel, slightly melancholy

For someone who was so sure that being away from my apartment was the antidote, it sure feels strange to walk home through another neighbourhood’s streets.

The way that my senses interpret the world has shifted through some notches.

A cabaret show that lets a sense of the punk and the carni in.… Read the rest