I don't know, either.

Oh, hi there. Nice to see you. Just a second. I gotta get comfortable.

Hang on.

Getting there. Just gotta adjust this one thing....

Oh, who am I kidding. I am procrastinating further. No, not procrastinating. Trying to be funny. Sheesh, I am way funnier than that normally. Anyway, I don't feel like procrastinating, I'll do it tomorrow. Ha ha ha!

Since you asked....things are good. I think they are good. I mean, no, they are, but I am so unused to this business of structure and sameness. Some days I have pangs for a past life. Possibly a future life. I am keeping a tight rein on my very inner truths, trying to sort them out. It's getting easier to pretend to be in a good mood now that I know what it feels like.

I keep having this conversation with myself about wanting to do more, thinking I should do more, and knowing that the best course of action at the present time is to stick to the plans I made in the winter. It seems so easy to just let the momentum of things carry me faster and faster and just get overbooked. I remember that's what I've always done.

This week I decided, after a dirty good summertime vacation long weekend in the Okanagan, that it would be kind of like a vacation just going to work and then coming home and staying home until it's time to go to work the next day. It's been a nice, quiet couple of nights. Trying to decide whether to go out tonight, but likely I will crawl into something warm and maybe watch something filmish. I MIGHT do the dishes, but I doubt it. But I might.

Oooh, I feel a bit rusty in the writing department. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to publish this. I am. Even though I am fairly certain it says nothing of import and little of interest. But then I'm going to write a little more later. And then maybe a little tomorrow and the next day. Because that will get me back up to speed. Right now I feel like I have left blogging so long that the information just piles up and it gets harder and harder to sit down and figure out what the important bits are to let you in on. (I understand that that sentence was a grammatical nightmare, but I'm not fixing it.) So, I remind myself, sit down and write a little every day, it will start to roll out of you again, it will.

I think I might be sad, but I can't really tell, so then I think maybe I'm not sad at all and I'm just confused because living without a deep well of sadness in me is so unfamiliar that I kind of miss it. So, is it that I am out of touch with my inner self? Or that I am inner touch with my outer self? Confused? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.


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