I’m nearer a routine. It depends on what kind of day I have – there are those when I go to bed at 10 and wake up at 9; there are those when I go to bed at 11 and wake up before 7.
“Oscillation on the pavement always means there’s a love affair,” says Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps oscillation in sleep cycles means something similar – having a (very tentative) love affair with your own life and self.
The move is, essentially, complete. I expect my couch on Friday. I have a few more art items to fetch from the house (I just don’t know QUITE where I put them). I have several more things to order – ottomans and the like – but I have everything I need to function as A Person Living Alone.
I continue to go to this very intensive therapy. It’s a tough place – the song from “Little Mermaid”, “Poor Unfortunate Souls”, just rattles around in my brain as I pass people on the way in and wait with others in the waiting room. These are half-spirits, coming back into their own fullness (some of them – others of them, apparently, not so much). Being with them, even for 20 minutes a week (I usually arrive early and have to wait), tethers me to our humanity. We can insulate ourselves as much as we want – from lack of privilege, from poverty, from mental illness, from racial inequality – but none of us are immune. We live in the world. We have rights and some of us have privileges – and we have responsibilities toward one another. The greater the privilege, the greater the responsibility towards other people who don’t have those privileges.
(Yes, I am working myself up for some volunteer work.)
In the meantime, I am back at work. I am waiting for the Y to finish its renovations so I can go back to yoga again. I am winding down a Miss Fisher marathon so I can pine for Season 3. My life is my own and I need to figure out what happens next in it.