Monday, March 5, 2012


I can start, I can try, with small blessings. The sun is shining brightly this morning. Cooder is purring loudly, something rare for her, here on the dining room table. I can stop and clean yesterday's tear-stains off of my glasses (be right back). Okay, I washed my face and moisturized too, only to return to the sunzone to find this:

Sun colonizing cats!

Well, there are worse things than having contented critters creating positive energy around you as you attempt to carpe diem.

By the way, I don't approve of cats on tables. Other than for sun purposes, I discourage it. But there isn't all that much direct sunlight in this apartment, and their lives are too short to deny them this pleasure. It's unnatural. And I can change the tablecloths (I mean, I have about 40 of them).

Keeping a perspective on the trials of life is just another arduous task. Like the momentary scare of despair I just had as I went to grind coffee for my second cup: the grinder (a nicer one) stopped working! Sigh. Panic. What to do if grinder death has occurred? Short spiral of discouragement. Another sigh.

Having dated a chef, I learned some things about kitchen stuff, so instead of throwing up my hands (well, after that first moment) in a Prissy "Lawdy, Miss Scarlett, I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no baby" moment (not racist, just my favorite description of helplessness in the face of a mechanical problem), I started to track down the problem. And lo! I was able to. The spout where the coffee comes out had gotten jammed with finely ground coffee.

Would that I could trace back and resolve my other problems so easily.

It's incredibly daunting, you know, to figure out what to do now. And I am afraid my head and heart are closed and bruised circuits at the moment, so the information coming from that direction do not seem of the highest, act-on-it-now, quality. This is a time when once wishes they had a personal board of directors to sit down and puzzle out the problem(s). (I think it would help quite a bit if I had Sergey and Larry or Sheryl Sandburg on that board. Cash infusion!)

I feel like some terrible combination of Sisyphus and Prometheus: rolling that damn stone up near to the top of a decision reached, another day of trying, only to be at the same or nearly the next morning. And at the same time being nakedly exposed, having my liver plucked out by endless birds of fear, self-doubt, failure, and blindness. I do often feel spiritually beaten-up, beaten-down.

The blindness. I can't see what to do. As I quoted to a friend, there is the refrain, in a wholly different context, of Cream: Don't know what to do. Don't know what to do. Don't. Know. What. To. Do.

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