Thoughtless. Not.
Spring is in the air! I don't care how cold it might still get but it is light out at 7 pm! That is all I need! Joy! Happiness! Eye mask for sleeping!
I may be back in Icey, but some friends of mine asked me to mind their store while they are in Germany. As we all know, the best remedy for the post- production blues is brisk attending to other business, or other peoples' businesses. However, there is no Internet connection at the store so I am forced to read and knit between customers.
And think.
Thinking is never good. Especially for me, and absolutely not when I am trapped in my own head. I once saw it aptly identified as self-chatter. The real problem sets in when we combine much thinking with the creativity of spring. I have a tendency to get ever so slightly inventive in spring.
There are people who should not dial while drunk; me, I should never write while thinking. I might start thinking how I should make coffee and end up writing a letter to a long lost love about how sorry I am that I wasn't there for him when he needed me (of course there is never a question of how much anyone might have needed me, I am, after all, the epicenter of the universe).
Thankfully, I rarely mail letters written in this state of mind.
Today I wrote a letter to a friend and mailed it. For heaven's sake, I tried keeping it short and unsentimental, but I fear there may have been some eerie declaration of support and "thinking of you". Tomorrow, who knows, I might have to write more friends and what if- good grief- I get the urge to clear the air with people I feel misunderstand me!
Dear goodness, I may never recover. Neither may they.
If all goes horribly wrong, the store owners will find a crazed letter writer with no remaining friends when they return next Friday.
I may be back in Icey, but some friends of mine asked me to mind their store while they are in Germany. As we all know, the best remedy for the post- production blues is brisk attending to other business, or other peoples' businesses. However, there is no Internet connection at the store so I am forced to read and knit between customers.
And think.
Thinking is never good. Especially for me, and absolutely not when I am trapped in my own head. I once saw it aptly identified as self-chatter. The real problem sets in when we combine much thinking with the creativity of spring. I have a tendency to get ever so slightly inventive in spring.
There are people who should not dial while drunk; me, I should never write while thinking. I might start thinking how I should make coffee and end up writing a letter to a long lost love about how sorry I am that I wasn't there for him when he needed me (of course there is never a question of how much anyone might have needed me, I am, after all, the epicenter of the universe).
Thankfully, I rarely mail letters written in this state of mind.
Today I wrote a letter to a friend and mailed it. For heaven's sake, I tried keeping it short and unsentimental, but I fear there may have been some eerie declaration of support and "thinking of you". Tomorrow, who knows, I might have to write more friends and what if- good grief- I get the urge to clear the air with people I feel misunderstand me!
Dear goodness, I may never recover. Neither may they.
If all goes horribly wrong, the store owners will find a crazed letter writer with no remaining friends when they return next Friday.
posted by disinterpreter at 9:25 PM
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