|Allview Avenue, on Sunday afternoon, after the snow melt.|
So, I am back to wrassling with my darker side. I'm just plain cranky, which, I'll allow, is likely better than my usual fallback position of depression. I wake up at night, wildly ready to be miserable, as I have mentioned here before, but am still managing to moderate my willingness to dive into despair.
And, hey, I am getting up and out of bed every day, albeit this day was later than I like. And I am showered, dressed, and even shod, though it is far to cold to go without many layers of clothing.
|Artifact balustrade from what was an estate on Allview Avenue.|
And now for our musical interlude, Leon Russell's Tightrope. Here's the lyric that got to me:
on the tightrope
one side's hate and one is hope
There I am, one's side's despair and one is hope ... and maybe some action. I would like to curl up with some tv or Netflix or something and just let the next two months wash over me. But, you know, maybe this is good because I have that little warning bell pinging a bit, the one that goes off when I look at doughnuts and almond croissants that reminds me that I won't feel well if I consume those (now add Rold Gold Thin Pretzels and Spicy Snack Mix to the list). I am pretty sure I won't feel any better, say in January, if I don't finish my filing, send out my little invoice, return my Netflix, and drive to the pet store and Trader Joe's before school gets out and the school buses take over the road. And I should probably take a walk as I didn't get one in yesterday.
|Those three trees, not in snow.|
|Cooder, on the other hand, is fully licensed to sleep.|