I need to process in solitude.
Please remain on the line and a representative will be with you shortly.
I’ve come to treasure the comfy respite that is my own mind. It’s familiar. It’s welcome. It has equilibrium & alignment. It’s home. ❤
When a question of significance comes my way, it’s the equivalent of a knock at the door. …
With everything closed and stay at home orders in place, I would like to say I’m spending all my extra time on fruitful and edifying pursuits, like reading, scrapbooking, and deep cleaning my apartment.
In reality, the majority of my time has been consumed by take-out and TV. And watching the dramatic performance that is 2020 unfold in all it’s Shakespearean, horror-infused glory.
Please tell me I’m not alone in this.
The silver lining of this couch-potato, sedentary existence has been the absence of a few extra pounds around the waist (what some have wittily monikered “the COVID-15”). Ironically, I’ve actually lost weight due to my *accidental* intermittent fasting. …
Enter: Seemingly perfect single person at a family gathering.
The scene goes something like this. You’re at a function. A relative (a usually caring and compassionate one, I might add) inquires about the State of Your Love Life.
You clear your throat. You’re prepared. It’s only the 5,846th millionth time you’ve been asked this question.
I’ve been dating a bit, but no one in particular that I’m excited about right now.
The relative turns to you, bleary-eyed, with Mother-Theresa-imbued understanding and consideration, and says,
“Just be yourself.
When you meet the right person, it will work out.”
I’ve never played soccer (or any contact sport for that matter). But this phrase impacts me the way I imagine a ball-to-the-groin hits the not-so-fortunate recipient: right where it hurts. …