It’s a perfectly glorious, sensual night tonight. Just cool enough, just enough humidity to hold the smells in the air. Trees and grass, horses – on the way out of Guelph, smoke – coming into Kitchener. A perfect night to sit out on the patio, slapping mosquitos and drinking wine, watching the smoke from cigarettes curl into the darkness, talking about everything. Or, alternatively, one could watch a bunch of Amazing Race episodes with one’s friends. 🙂 My friend’s husband and I got into a conversation about stars. It made me nostalgic for laying on the trampoline at my parents’ house on a summer night, the wealth of stars so overwhelming it made me dizzy. I couldn’t live there again, but the city is most definitely not perfect. Humans can make pollution of anything. Even light.
Feeling a little tired, a little lonely. I’ve had a headache most of today. I want a kiss on the neck and to fall asleep with the dishes unwashed. A stranger asked me today, Are you still in love with him? Funny, I never thought it would be humility whose depths I most plumbed as a result of this breakup.
I started bleeding this evening. It’s only maybe the third time I can ever remember bleeding mid-cycle. Odd, since I would have thought the stress and whatnot would have interrupted the first cycle after the breakup, but no, that one was like clockwork. For some reason it’s stuck in my head that it’s some kind of warning from my body. About what, I have no idea.
I did eight of the things on my list today. There were ten in total. The other two will easily be taken care of tomorrow. I should also go over to my brother’s and do some work. I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I want to sell the house as is and be done. Done. This concludes our whining for the evening. One thing that was not written on my physical list is a blog post. I thought about writing it last night when I was in the middle of thinking about it, mentally ranting about it, somewhat amused by it. It’s coming. Honest. Ceiling fans… Jesus.