I have absolutely nothing to report.
And that is a lie.
I mean, nothing that you care about, I’m sure. I’m not saying that sarcastically. I’m just generally going through some non-magical emotional hocus pocus and don’t see how anyone else could possibly find that interesting. I don’t find it interesting either. Annoying. Frustrating. That’s how I find it.
I woke up on Sunday. Ate a delightful breakfast. Left a message for a good friend. Brushed my teeth. Then suddenly I was power-walking out the door and down towards the water with my eyes filling up and my chest hitching. Sob-fest. And as I’m walking towards the water and as far away from anyone who could possibly hear me I register that it’s a gorgeous day and my garden, if being overtaken by weeds, is producing edible things and I’m in the most beautiful place I could imagine.
So that’s the problem: I’m surrounded by all these good things and still the tears they are a comin’ and I have absolutely. no. idea. why.
I ended up at the Emily Guirl, our rowboat, and folded myself into the bow and cried and cried and cried.
The whole while my Dude voice is at the front of my cortex shaking its head and saying gently to me “Dude, f*<#ing get a hold of yourself.”
Later that day, I was fine. So what the hell?
What was that all about?
Exciting places I’ve ridden my bike:
- the end of the Latent Point road
- a secret Dennysville swimming hole!
Possible future biking adventures:
- Cobscook Bay State Park, except I’ll go to the boat landing so I don’t have to pay 3 bucks, cause I’m just that cheap I guess
- Quoddy Head State Park!
I’m working a few different jobs right now, two for which it’s not necessary for me to wear deodorant and one that seems like it would be a good idea if I start… though I already started shaving my pits for that job and I’m reluctant to add one more thing to my bathroom routine, which is minimal. But still it seems to take me forever to get ready for work? the day? Most of that owing to my indecision about what clothes to wear. I seem to dress for my mood, but it’s never quite clear to me what that is until I put my clothes on. Usually it ends up involving a rainbow’s vomit worth of colors.