Monday, June 01, 2009

bearings

So yesterday afternoon, after what has seemed like years, I finally began to feel like I was getting my bearings. You know what that it is….it’s your internal balance and sense that all is right with the world. It’s been a long haul in the weeks since our house was broken into. I’m not sure if that was the start or not, but at least that is as far back as I can remember at this point. I haven’t felt at all like life was much of anything that is familiar to me. I haven’t been to the beach much, which is never a good sign, and even when I did come I wasn’t interested in writing anything. We even threw in a weeks vacation that was wonderful but really probably only served to keep me from going completely over the edge. Anyway…..back to yesterday afternoon… I was feeling level again. Last night we relaxed out on the deck with the urban version of a campfire, a chimnea. I even had to buy the bundle of wood from Safeway. I did bring it home and split it so I keep a bit of my masculine, outdoors, dignity. We are in the midst of the kind of weather that keeps me in Seattle during the Summer months…sunny and 70’s.
That was yesterday. Seems like a long time ago. I woke up this morning at 5am because of the birds who have established their own version of urban renewal in the rain gutter outside of our bedroom window. No problem…I’ll just head down to the beach early. Maybe I’ll just lay here a bit longer and contemplate that thought, and then next thing I know, it’s 6:30 and somehow I’m thinking that I’ve just lost an hour and a half that I shouldn’t have even had in the first place. No problem…I think that I still have time to write some and even get some good reading in for my grad class, maybe watch a lecture while I’m at it. I was even in a good enough mood to feed the cat without any resentment involved. Showered and ready to go now, open the door and look what my demented senile old feline deposited for me….in the doorway….on some of the last remaining carpet in the house. I’m convinced that she’s bulimic. Now the resentment kicks in, especially after I learn that her continual gastrointestinal habits have depleted our lifetime supply of “Spot Shot”. Now a few choice words kick in which my wife says are futile because she doesn’t understand them anyway. It makes me feel better and by the look on her furry face, I think she knows exactly what I’m saying to her.
Finally….two and a half hours after first having my dreamy thoughts about coffee and the beach, I’m finally here. The sun is warm over the bay, the air is slightly heavy, but breezy with the smell of sea and a slight tinge of fish. The coffee is hot and the fireplace is not, which is all good with me. I sit down here to write, look for my headphones and discover they’ve been left behind. Over the past few weeks this might have pushed me over the edge. Not today, my bearings are back.

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