“Wake up, Lynne!”
I’m in one of those moods where I’m doubting everything I’m doing and want to make major changes. Just get me out of the status quo.
I think I need a road trip. But wait. I had one a couple weekends ago, and it didn’t seem to help.
I think I need a break from winter. Temps have been in the low teens for the past two weeks, with the wind-chill making it feel much colder. Yet the big lake-effect snowstorm in upstate New York missed us, so there’s been no excitement of that kind to stimulate me. We have a few inches of crusted-over snow and ice, which makes walking in the woods treacherous. You have to watch your footsteps at all times, and doing just that, I walked into a low-hanging branch the other day. Ouch!
My life feels like a bowl of pudding, swirling around aimlessly while a child stirs it lackadaisically with a wooden spoon.
I seem to have forgotten the directions on how to live my life, and can’t remember where I filed them. There are things I should be doing, and probably an order of priority, but all I can manage is to fiddle with inconsequential minutia.
In the middle of the afternoon, I work on a sudoku puzzle.
“Wake up, Lynne.”
I’m bipolar. My mood will change. And I’m going to go for a walk now to help it along!
I’m in one of those moods where I’m doubting everything I’m doing and want to make major changes. Just get me out of the status quo.
I think I need a road trip. But wait. I had one a couple weekends ago, and it didn’t seem to help.
I think I need a break from winter. Temps have been in the low teens for the past two weeks, with the wind-chill making it feel much colder. Yet the big lake-effect snowstorm in upstate New York missed us, so there’s been no excitement of that kind to stimulate me. We have a few inches of crusted-over snow and ice, which makes walking in the woods treacherous. You have to watch your footsteps at all times, and doing just that, I walked into a low-hanging branch the other day. Ouch!
My life feels like a bowl of pudding, swirling around aimlessly while a child stirs it lackadaisically with a wooden spoon.
I seem to have forgotten the directions on how to live my life, and can’t remember where I filed them. There are things I should be doing, and probably an order of priority, but all I can manage is to fiddle with inconsequential minutia.
In the middle of the afternoon, I work on a sudoku puzzle.
“Wake up, Lynne.”
I’m bipolar. My mood will change. And I’m going to go for a walk now to help it along!
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