Wow, a few hours to myself. That doesn’t happen very often anymore and I plan to take full advantage of it. Mainly, I’m going to stomp around the house talking aloud to myself–man, I love talking to myself–and move a few items of furniture from here to there. I was going to take a walk with Torie and Scott but I think I’d better hold off because I feel feverish and it’s raining pretty hard; later on, I’ll take a shorter, less strenuous walk by myself, maybe around the block. I’m a little depressed today, so a slow, deliberate housecleaning/decorating bout will be a healthy way to combat it. When I’m angry, I do quick, furious cleaning. When I’m sad, I move slowly… it’s my way of handling myself gently, of rocking myself through the moment until I can feel better again.
I plan to move the entryway bookshelf into the living room, the honeymoon hutch from the Spare Oom to the entryway, and the entryway mirror to the right side of the hutch. This will necessitate removing a shelf that holds family pictures, so I need to find a new home for it somewhere else. I’m thinking the living room, over another bookshelf. There will be lots of unscrewing and screwing going on (har har) and I will undoubtedly end up sounding like Horatio after a heavy petting session (again, har). My cat was born with a herpes virus, which manifests itself differently in kitties: he has respiratory problems because of it, not cold sores etc–so he literally sounds, as my friend Stevie put it, like a perverted old man when he’s trying to eat his food. He huffs and snuffs and snorts and hacks his way through every bite. It’s really cute. So anyway, I’ll undoubtedly sound like that, though I’ll warrant my reason will have more to do with the flu bug than herpes. Dear God, I hope, otherwise I’m in big trouble.
Last night, because there were several of us watching television, I sat in the taupe rocker by the bookcase (obviously, the living room is more of a library than anything) that holds my favorite books; I generally don’t sit here since the television-viewing vantage point is skewed, but I was being nice and giving other people a chance to watch comfortably. I did have the opportunity, however, to gaze at the titles of these beloved books and I got super excited to do a bunch of rereading sometime in the future. I say “sometime in the future” because yesterday I put a buttload of horror anthologies on hold at the liberry. There just isn’t enough time in the world, I swear to you.
Oh my gosh, and last night Jess brought out the tarot cards that I’d bought him for Christmas, and we had SO much fun playing with them. None of us believe they have spiritual powers; they simply serve as means to applying metaphors to your life, to particular situations, and helpful metaphors can be found anywhere, even in the cards. On a related note, this Christmas Eve we read ghost stories… Both the cards and stories were very much a Victorian practice, and it makes me sad that the Christian religion, in the latter years, has deemed both “evil.” Way back when, churches had fortune tellers in to their socials, for fun, and even preachers wrote ghost stories. Over the last century the church has staunched a lot of rich fodder for imagination, but I don’t want to get into a bitter diatribe against it, not at all. I’m just musing aloud. The church has done some good, as well. Just not so much for me. Potato, potahto.
Well, that furniture isn’t going to move itself… especially considering I don’t believe in ghosts, either. Love to everyone! xo