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Those little things.

Posted in Life & Love

old ladies computer
I am tired of feeling tired. I am also tired of hearing myself complain about how exhausted I am. If I am boring myself, I can’t imagine what the poor souls who are close to me must be suffering.
It’s all my own doing – I have spread myself too thin for too long, prodded by a need to replenish my coffers after a couple of dry months, and a desire to add different experiences to a life that was becoming a little bit too routine. Beware what you wish for, indeed.

And now, here I am, at the height of the holiday season, with no vacation plans until November, dreading the next week, which will be particularly brutal. At least I am working, I remind myself, before I fall into dreaming of Hawaiian beaches, and envying everyone I know who is heading somewhere relaxing.

It’s hot today. I had an outline for a post that required quite a bit of research and I found myself procrastinating, hopping from site to site having nothing to do with the subject at hand until I came across an image that lifted the fog in my mind and my spirits.

Sometimes I forget it’s the tiniest little things that keep me going, that give me perspective – all those unplanned occurrences; an unexpected message from someone you hadn’t spoken to in a long time; a birthday wish received a month late; a Campari shared with a friend on a rare evening out; the yellow roses my husband brought home.

Even a dead bird. When I heard a loud thud on the kitchen window, I immediately knew a bird had accidentally flown into it. I looked out, and there she lay, a beautiful bird with translucent plumes and a pale pink belly, still alive. I picked her up and cradled her in a towel, talking to her, telling myself maybe there was nothing wrong, she was just confused and would fly again. She made tiny sounds, nibbled at the edge of the towel, her body shook and then she died. It all happened within a minute, before I could come to my senses and realize her neck was broken and the kind thing to do was to kill her. I buried her under an agave up the hillside. While sad, I felt privileged to hold such a beautiful bird.

drawing old ladiesIt’s the small things that remind me of beauty and grace when I slide into crankiness. Like this drawing sofagirl posted on her FB page and I came across in my mindless internet wandering. It had my name on it and caustically read: “The future.”

From where I sit, if this is the future, it looks mighty good. Sign me up. And then I laughed. Another little thing in a string of them that made my day. I am still exhausted. But I am smiling. Taking a cue from the cartoon, time for a Martini.

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  1. I feel all you’ve described–except I haven’t felt a dead bird.
    You have time though for such thoughtfulness that you pore into your posts so it can’t be too too bad. If you are suffering from what I’ve got, it’s that I don’t want to work, refill the coffers. Bills must be paid yet I linger longingly over these impossible scenarios. My current state of mind is that I can’t be arsed doing what I can’t be arsed doing. There, said it.
    So here I sit in the garden swinging my crossed leg, reading my 1920s bestseller and sipping wine 🙂

    August 7, 2015
    • camparigirl

      …linger lovingly over impossible scenarios….perfectly put. What I do all day, even in the midst of work I am not too crazy about. Serves me right for just thinking about the money. What 1920 best seller, pray tell?

      August 7, 2015
      • I’m glad to hear you do it too.
        The book’s called The Constant Nymph by Margaret Kennedy. I don’t know if it stands the test of time. I’m reading from a mixture of curiosity and research. I never put books down unfinished… Well see.

        August 7, 2015

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