ENOUGH?

Up a road at Schroon Lake.

It has been many, many a moon since I went upstairs for dinner and drinks with John and Melinda. The dinner was turkey tacos with avocado and heirloom tomatoes. The wine it was white. I drank too much, hence the strange posting last night.

What could I have been thinking about? We watched another episode of Boardwalk Empire, but I will have to rewatch as I scarcely remember it. But why was I thinking about worthiness?

On another note, is it meditation when you sit with your kitty and do nothing but pet the kitty and muse?

The lake is quite high.

I kept pretty quiet today. Although I don't feel terrible, I do feel quite stupid and listless. Summer's over and so should summer's drinking. I need to muster meself for job hunting and the like.

Lots of company this month, so I need to push on the housekeeping front, although I don't need to devote my life to it. I have kept things relatively under control. I do need to clean off my dining room table so that Brenna and Martha and Mom and Debee can have a place to sit and eat. (Not all at the same time, mind you.)

I was discussing my lack of motivation with K yesterday. I don't ever jump out of bed with energy to burn, excited to get started on the day, and get things crossed off my list. Crap. Sometimes, I can't even focus enough to make a list.

I can't recall the exact conversation, but her ending comment was "It's just a room."

For some reason that has reverberated. There are those mental blocks that make things seem so much bigger than they are. I have made cleaning off my dining room table into a bugaboo. The table is covered with mostly my tools, screws, and other odds and ends I don't know how to deal with. So I avoid them. Why is sorting screws a profound and moral issue? Who cares if I don't sort them? My socks and underwear and t-shirts and scarves and jewelry all organized. Is that enough?