Five minutes on Tuesday

Only five minutes to post. Sun setting, time to go to class. I smell like greasy, fried onions.

I’ve been emotionally exhausted. Spent a good part of the night yesterday sobbing in M.’s arms, and bringing his mood down with me like some joy-sucking octopus using my hormonal tentacles to pull him into the deeps. After a little coffee this morning, reading some Anne Lamott, I became much less serious, more awake, not quite so stern with myself and in general have a cheerful, more forgiving, and sillier outlook on the world.

I was also able to meet with him for lunch, or coffee in this case, and make myself a bit more presentable and smiley. I was on a bit of a weird, coffee-caffeine haze, dizzy after meeting with this fast-talking, weird consultant guy, and felt like I was talking too much and trying to convince both of us that I’m a sane person after all. He’s a wonderful husband, actually. He puts up with all my spaghetti-tangled thought webs, and hurricane moods, and then says, after it all that he loves me just the way I am, even with (and sometimes especially because of!) all my hysteria.

Also, I have to say, writing is good for me – it makes me reflect more, give thanks more, and enjoy life more. It’s a process of marking beautiful and sacred milestones. Also good for me is exercise, laughing, sunshine, sleep, and positive interaction with people.

What else was exciting about this weekend? We got a vacuum cleaner!No time to elaborate – I’m already late for class!

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