House Haze

So I was in an illogoical dark place for most of the day. A little too cold to work in the yard, nothing more to throw away or sort or organize, only a few more candles to burn. I did. Nothing to watch. That didn't stop me. The book we're writing didn't make sense, the words actually I couldn't even comprehend. There was lots of staring involved and muttering pointlessness and feeling bad about neglecting fiction. So then sometime around 4 of literally a day come and gone, I jumped up to go workout. I made my way to 24f and things seemed to make sense there. I read my book. I pedaled and ellipticaled, took a long hot shower and then came back to the house. All re-energized and ...

Why didn't I start my day this way? Can I have a do over? Even now I can feel the room sucking me back into an impenetrable fortress of gloom. Where the lists won't get done. Where the lists in fact become unimportant. And I spend much too much time staring out the window watching the mocking bird collect nest materials and the grass grow. And all the time in the world seems to be an insignificant thing. Or that it means too much, or not enough but either way I can't decide and I feel bad about both. Having it. Not having it. Too desireous to be productive but utterly unmotivated and feeling ruined and wasted as each day goes by and not capitilizing on the good fortune I find myself in. Not living mylife, spending too much time looking at it. When I need to start taking delight in things like the Millard Filmore soap commerical, or the scent of Fressia flowers in the morning, or the strike being over or the titillating end of Weeds:II, or my awesome car, or my awesomely organized room. And that it's okay to let go and watch the clouds. It's not a waste of time. Just-let-it-go. Let the breeze take you. For now.