The heat and stickiness feel strange. I may be overtired. Please excuse my indulgence.
A few years ago I felt so completely driven: to crack my own head case, get over the timid aspects of my nature, learn to make crude music. Basically, to grow.
These projects have all been underway for long enough that I take them completely for granted.
In addition:
My friends are unbelievable.
I've reconciled with my family and our relationship is deepening.
My wardrobe is sufficient, with a few items verging on fabulous.
I've suffered several catastrophes of varying degrees of hideousness and remain essentially resilient and cheerful.
Have beautiful cats.
Can afford good hairdresser.
So basically I don't know what to do with myself.
At first I considered getting cable television, to find out more about the things that everyone fusses over, like HGTV. I do miss watching TV with Ben. He had TiVo. We watched "The Concert for George" one night -- for something like 3 hours -- and we ate big salads for dinner and had tea and frozen Entemann's cookies for dessert, all in front of the TV. I cried during the opening "I Want to Tell You" and tried to hide it by burying my face in a Kleenex. The poignancy of the refrain was really getting to me.
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