It started as a quest to retrieve my cell phone (left it behind at a client's last night as I packed the car in the dark. Like The Great Escape. )
Mid-afternoon blues hit when client second-guesses the charges on an invoice. It's me, not them, much like having to explain why you want to break-up with someone and the concrete reason is a challenge to put into words. Bottomline, one has to determine their own value and stick to it.
The fact that my shit's split between a dry basement, my old bedroom, the floorboards and truck of the car, on top of a guest room table, cloth bags strewn here and there. Really isn't a good excuse to be so frazzled, seemingly near tears every two seconds. Feel as though I 'm uncovering all of my DIRT and exposing it to the air, smelling the decay and malnutrition on my Journal entries, the layer of dust on Self-Esteem, Confidence looks pasty, a crooked smile plays out on Apparent Discomfort.
A restless energy, sorrow, threat of being booted from The Club I worked so hard to complete the Admissions Application.
How did I ever get here again?
Now the cell phone charger cord has gone missing, probably scooted out of sight as I huffed and puffed my way through the distress of planning outfits and organizing necessary documents for the week ahead. Make-up to cover the smudged circles, jewelry to turn their eyes away from the dispair, shiny shoes that hide weary feet.
Tomorrow I'll do a better job at being Cheerful.
Just wait!
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