Being psychic and all, I knew these few days away from my family and job might present a problem.
I never want to leave this place.
And can you imagine how I might feel if the fog had lifted, the sun was shining, and I did not feel it necessary to carry around a space heater to act as my personal shadow???
But, being the eternal optimist (No people, that was not a joke. . . ) I have made the most of it.
I have awakened bright and early this morning (the unintended consequence – I might add – of actually sleeping through the night for a change) made myself a pot of coffee, plugged in my string of scalloped lights, lit a Yankee candle which claims to smell like Sun and Sand and another which calls itself Ocean Water (if I could add Low Tide, I’d have the perfect troika. . . ) and perched myself in the only spot in the house where – if/when the fog lifts – I will have an unobstructed six-inch view of the ocean.
I ask you. . . does it get any better than that? (Well, maybe if they weren’t currently building that monster of an oceanfront house which very clearly intends to cut my six-inch ocean view down to four. . . )
Okay, so here’s a very profound thought I just had. . .
Perhaps – just perhaps – my tired soul is like that candle (oh, I don’t care which one it is . . . let’s just call me Low Tide. . . ) waiting patiently through a long, cold, and isolated winter for some sort of energy to come and reclaim the house, stir up some molecules, dust off the memories of inertia, and quite literally breathe some life back into it.
Yikes!
I never want to leave this place.
And can you imagine how I might feel if the fog had lifted, the sun was shining, and I did not feel it necessary to carry around a space heater to act as my personal shadow???
But, being the eternal optimist (No people, that was not a joke. . . ) I have made the most of it.
I have awakened bright and early this morning (the unintended consequence – I might add – of actually sleeping through the night for a change) made myself a pot of coffee, plugged in my string of scalloped lights, lit a Yankee candle which claims to smell like Sun and Sand and another which calls itself Ocean Water (if I could add Low Tide, I’d have the perfect troika. . . ) and perched myself in the only spot in the house where – if/when the fog lifts – I will have an unobstructed six-inch view of the ocean.
I ask you. . . does it get any better than that? (Well, maybe if they weren’t currently building that monster of an oceanfront house which very clearly intends to cut my six-inch ocean view down to four. . . )
Okay, so here’s a very profound thought I just had. . .
Perhaps – just perhaps – my tired soul is like that candle (oh, I don’t care which one it is . . . let’s just call me Low Tide. . . ) waiting patiently through a long, cold, and isolated winter for some sort of energy to come and reclaim the house, stir up some molecules, dust off the memories of inertia, and quite literally breathe some life back into it.
Yikes!
That’s some deep thinking!
I’m not quite sure what it means, but if I thunk it. . . it must be quite insightful. . .
p.s. I cannot tell a lie (well, I can tell one, but I usually have to set the record straight later. . . ) I had the aforementioned profound thought while in the bathroom staring at the hand soap that reads Tropical Escape. . .
