You know what it's like when the power steering stops working in the car? That's what it's like. By force (or farce) I've been trying to steer my life back-on-track. I'm soooooo tired of moving furniture around the apartment... Well, it looks like I finally have a good shot at a return to normalcy. The roommate is moving in at the end of the month, taking up some of the slack.
I was talking to a prospective date... and TV shows came up..."No really, I don't watch The Big Bang Theory" - WHAT? No canned sitcom TV for me - No thanks!
So what DO I do? Well, happily (for me) I have my mess to tend. Hard to explain to someone who has never had their own mess. My mess is like a rare plant requiring my constant care...sometimes it blossoms for me, most of the time it just keeps me busy landscaping...moving ideas that have turned into rocks to more favorable aspects, skirting brainstorms that threaten to wash away less established root systems.
Mostly I am happy with my mess, afterall I made it...or maybe it makes me? You know, that person who doesn't watch so much TV? My mess includes my piano. I soooo wish I could follow the dots and lines that music teachers have so patiently explained to me. That way lies the straight and elegant. But oh no, I must follow my own path, sans dots and lines...I'll write my own notes and leave them on the kitchen table.
So, another lonely weekend...a cancelled date...furniture to move...cats to clean up after...and the cultivation and introspection of my own personal mess...Got Mess?
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