Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Whatever happened to wearing the world like a loose garment anyway?
I can't seem to settle into my own skin.
It's been hectic since I got back, workers still crawling around the house, municipal matters piled up while I was gone now scream for attention and the plans for finishing off Book 3 and sending it around recede into the background. I don't think my brain could cope.
Yeah, I'm living in chaos.
On top of that my android phone appears to have been stolen while I was gone. The wee shelf where it lives and sucks power is bare. Daughter hunted high and low while she was staying here. As did I when I returned. That leaves me feeling queasy.
Dozers and other machinery tear up and down next door building monster summer homes for the sons of the local merchant.
Discombobulated is what I am. Restless and irritable. And anxious. About what I couldn't tell you. Pileup it feels like.
This could be seasonal, or it might be the noise and banging around me not to mention the crunch of scrapings, dust and debris underfoot. Summer people are now leaving for warmer climes and that makes me sad.
Oh yes, good news in that a play I submitted to a St. John's theatre is being "considered" for production.
And no news on the artist's grant I applied for.
I can really see now how elders/artists living alone make a monthly choice between food and heat.
Nudge: To the Universe - grant, please, now. I need this grant!
Then it will be loose garment time.