True to form, I have been adeptly and stealthily working at ways to destroy my life because... because... I'm not sure. That's the $64,000 question. Ironically, that's what I've spent on therapy year to date.
I'm not stupid.
I'm logical.
But there's this innate sense of restlessness that I can't shake. I should be so exorbitantly happy. I have a four day work week. I'm not a slave to the man. My car turns over every time I start it. I won a marathon once, for chrissakes. I flail around and gesticulate wildly and weep uncontrollably and my partner of 11 years says "yes, I still love you. Yes, we can make it work". Anything I've ever wanted I've gotten.
My mom says I've been like that from the get go. Maybe it's a part of my fibre. Maybe there's an app for that.
I hate whinging blogs that are all self-absorbed and all-encompassing. This is that blog.
Went to Shipbuilders' Square again on Friday night and caught even more great music and bought another album. Went to the Gull after for more live music and an animated discussion about the global economy. It's always lighthearted with me.
Saturday was a ten miler followed by a BBQ at Po's place. God she has a nice place. I'm thinking house swapping might be in order so I can sleep nights sometimes (as I write this house sitting just up the road).
Sunday was a 19 mile run and, given the issues I've been working through (in physio this time), it went freakishly well. Little lie down (and burn) in the sun after. Then sushi and Sunday night cartoons and explosive arguments.
As exercising is more important than talking, the arguments were put on hold to do the BCMC this morning - holy fucking technical, Batman - and then we saw the beautiful grizzly bears at the top of the mountain. Took the tram down. Had dinner in the park. Argued some more.
Essentially arrived at the point we always arrive at: I'm spastic. And blessed, apparently.
2 comments:
And a helluva good read. Thank you.
You are a woman... this is how we roll. Sounds like you had a tad better weekend than I did. I didn't stop the arguing to run and eat and sun... 3 days non stop. Finally at the end of the evening (with awesome weather) out on the deck as I finished my second glass of wine I told him "thanks for putting up with me for 30 years and never leaving me." To which he said "I would never leave you." What a wasted weekend. I later told him all about how a woman's pheromones actually repel me, when all we really want is for them to hold us and tells us it's all going to be OK. We're so screwed. BTW, at least you blog isn't about yarn and a goofy cat.
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