Okay, so I'm not so smart...
It's raining today. We need rain. Rain makes the flowers grow, not to mention the five dozen peppers, five dozen tomatoes, corn, cauliflower, broccoli...you get the picture...that's in my (our) garden. I might even be able to tell if my chamomile and lavender are actually herbs or weeds after this rain (or, at least, the weeds will present themselves as they really are, and I pull out the biggest ones).
So, it's raining, and my habit has been for the last several weeks to grab my coffee, my books, my laptop and hit the porch soon after awaking. This morning was a bit late. I got up at 8am, looked out the window, looked at my hubby, kissed him with that icky morning breath (he loves me), and said, "Naw, I'm going back to bed." Morning for me didn't officially start until a little after 10am. Again....she lives an indulgent life of leisure.
And here I am, on the porch, content that I've got a long talk with one of my dear friends under my belt, several cups of coffee (I'm on to the Mt. Dew...I'm down four pounds so I can indulge without obsessing over the sugar) later, and it's still raining. It's raining so steadily that the blanket over my lap feels damp, though I know it's just the humidity. The porch is nice and dry, and I am thoroughly clammy. I'm achy. Everything inside me says I should go back in the house, curl up on the sofa, and do whatever it is that I do (sometimes, that's difficult for me to define). Though last weeks flare is behind me, I know I've been teetering on the edge for days, as witnessed by yesterday's (I'd like to assign it to the past) backache which is still hanging on today.
But I'm not that smart. Like a little kid who continues to eat the candy well past the belly ache stage, I'm enjoying the birdies singing, the sound of the rain falling, and if I end up with more physical pain than I care to deal with....does that mean I'm taking the responsibility for it? Making my choices, telling myself, "You can be cooped up, or you can be free and have pain." I'm not that smart. Right now, as my pinky hits the 'a' key and especially when it stretches for the 'q' or the 'z', I can feel it. It's in my bones. Fully within my power to get up and go in the house, I know. But my mind says, "Sug, it won't get rid of it all, and it's so dark in there, even with the lights burning."
I have new candles. Mango something or other. They smell really good, but I bought them in votives, and I either have to dig out a pair of clean votive cups or clean the ones in my dish garden, as they still have icky pumpkin residue from the last time I had them lit....and then, using two rather than three commits me to using them in pairs, when I bought them specifically for use in garden....sigh.
I'm sure it's my addictive personality that's insisting that, even though there be consequences, today, I'd rather feel free in the short term than be sensible and go inside. Today, I'm a little kid, and I want what I want when I want it, to hell with the cost.
That's honest. Now, I'm going to move on to justifying honesty as what makes it all okay.
Progress, not perfection.
Till later....
So, it's raining, and my habit has been for the last several weeks to grab my coffee, my books, my laptop and hit the porch soon after awaking. This morning was a bit late. I got up at 8am, looked out the window, looked at my hubby, kissed him with that icky morning breath (he loves me), and said, "Naw, I'm going back to bed." Morning for me didn't officially start until a little after 10am. Again....she lives an indulgent life of leisure.
And here I am, on the porch, content that I've got a long talk with one of my dear friends under my belt, several cups of coffee (I'm on to the Mt. Dew...I'm down four pounds so I can indulge without obsessing over the sugar) later, and it's still raining. It's raining so steadily that the blanket over my lap feels damp, though I know it's just the humidity. The porch is nice and dry, and I am thoroughly clammy. I'm achy. Everything inside me says I should go back in the house, curl up on the sofa, and do whatever it is that I do (sometimes, that's difficult for me to define). Though last weeks flare is behind me, I know I've been teetering on the edge for days, as witnessed by yesterday's (I'd like to assign it to the past) backache which is still hanging on today.
But I'm not that smart. Like a little kid who continues to eat the candy well past the belly ache stage, I'm enjoying the birdies singing, the sound of the rain falling, and if I end up with more physical pain than I care to deal with....does that mean I'm taking the responsibility for it? Making my choices, telling myself, "You can be cooped up, or you can be free and have pain." I'm not that smart. Right now, as my pinky hits the 'a' key and especially when it stretches for the 'q' or the 'z', I can feel it. It's in my bones. Fully within my power to get up and go in the house, I know. But my mind says, "Sug, it won't get rid of it all, and it's so dark in there, even with the lights burning."
I have new candles. Mango something or other. They smell really good, but I bought them in votives, and I either have to dig out a pair of clean votive cups or clean the ones in my dish garden, as they still have icky pumpkin residue from the last time I had them lit....and then, using two rather than three commits me to using them in pairs, when I bought them specifically for use in garden....sigh.
I'm sure it's my addictive personality that's insisting that, even though there be consequences, today, I'd rather feel free in the short term than be sensible and go inside. Today, I'm a little kid, and I want what I want when I want it, to hell with the cost.
That's honest. Now, I'm going to move on to justifying honesty as what makes it all okay.
Progress, not perfection.
Till later....
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