So I was sitting on the couch of the place I’m currently house sitting last night, attempting to come up with a description of my current mood/state of mind. The maybe-not-so-wise one’s words … “depressed again?” still echoing in my ears. Well, no, actually. There does tend to be a dip on the chart that affects me most evenings, but I’d rather call it contemplation. My brain becomes so full over the course of the day; it needs some space and time to sort the contents out, piece by piece. A kind of decompression, if you will.
I came up with a vision- me as a deck of cards, scattered all over the hardwood floor, and suddenly invisible hands are sweeping me up to sort and shuffle. Once I’m in a semblance of order, things begin to flow. Worries shrink into manageable pieces and ideas blossom. Although I have never been a cat person, I have thoroughly enjoyed acquainting myself with my current charge, and the sight of him sprawled out in front of the fireplace relaxes me. I’m sure there are dozens upon dozens of TV stations to peruse, but I can’t be bothered trying to figure out the multitudes of buttons on the three remotes. I’d rather stay lost in my reorganization of thoughts. And so it was.