reality's cruel trick

I am sad. I have nothing truly to be sad about. I’m healthy; my kids are smart & healthy. I’m lonely. I’m surrounded by loving friends & family. I’m out of control; but I’m in control. I’m tired. I get plenty of sleep. I’m bored. I spend my days doing basically whatever I want.

I didn’t shower for four days. I didn’t shave my armpits for close to two weeks. Gross, I know, but that’s how it was. The hairs in my armpits (armpips if you ask my 9 year old daughter) where so terribly long that I had to sleep with my blanket tucked into my armpits as protection from the stubble. I don’t think it would even qualify as stubble, it was a lil past that stage.

I read books all day long until time to pick the kids up. Then we would go on bike rides, just to make sure my blood still circulated, and to keep the kids busy.

I’ve been picking random books to expand my knowledge & pique my interests. I used to think that the type of books you picked out & read meant something about the person you were. As if your subconscious led you to the path you should be on by opening it to you in a book.

Ironically, the last two books I’ve read were “The Screwed Up Life of Charlie the Second” & “Vital Ties” – just random books I’ve caught glimpse of while perusing the library. The first is about a juvenile’s trip through his senior year & being gay. The second was a novel covering the life a women owning her own farm in the 1950’s thru the 1980’s - and being a lesbian.

Is my subconscious trying to tell me something???

Anyway, I’ve been showering & shaving my armpits. So I guess it’s all good. For now.