I am very tired. It's raining constantly here, and the rain calls me to rest, and all I want to do is curl up in my apartment and sleep for a week, with nothing to do and nowhere to go and no obligations.
I've been working harder than ever at my job, and I love all the problem-solving I get to do, but the torrent of tasks is never-ending and I only want a break. Everything is damp and I need to hibernate.
A little soul-restoration would not go amiss. I am not unhappy, just weary and worn and a little put off by the influx of people in the office. Need to recharge the introvert batteries with a fresh bout of solitude and a good dose of Nature, which I haven't had in forever and which I'm starving for, especially with the ending of August and the coming of September and the beginnings of fall.
Love to all.
3 comments:
You can rest when you're dead! Or on September 15, whichever comes first. (I'm hoping for 9/15)
I think there's something about having a Sept. birthday that makes our compasses resound with the coming of fall. As for me, every year it seems to get sweeter.
I too am hoping for 9/15. :)
And yes...those September birthdays make the arrival of fall like coming home, a kind of renewal of the spirit, something sweetly at odds with the advent of the dying of the year. I need it, this year, and very badly. I'm hoping for a REAL fall. The past few in Indiana have been sort of inglorious, and I miss those crisp days, the length of the season, those bright dry-leaf vinegar afternoons when you stick a couple of apples in your jacket pockets and wander by your lonesome and it isn't lonely.
Sigh. I don't know what's gotten into me. I feel all dried out in the soul. Spiritually depleted. Maybe I'd better unbrick that wall I seem to have built between myself and God. I don't know exactly when it happened, but something got shriveled when it did, and I feel icky, like a moldering raisin.
It's that lovely Jonah complex, I guess. The great thing is, though, that I don't have to fear any punishing abandonment, any reflective absence, when I knock a hole in the wall. That's still something it's taking time to learn.
Gut-spilling over now.
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