dry eyes = wet heart

I am not blogging about the Kim family, because I do not have the proper words.

I am not blogging about my anxiety, because who wants to hear about how my brain regurgitates at least a dozen possible-death scenarios for any given situation? No one, that’s who.

I am not blogging about my relationship problems, because we talked and things are better and I don’t want to jinx that.

Things are actually pretty good in the Cranky house. Right now Not So has the baby upstairs, so I have an unexpected window of solitude. It’s very odd and I don’t really know what to do with myself. I’ve already tweaked the theme on my blog (the new version of Tarski came out today, so of course I had to go and mess with everything after I installed it) and gone through all my rss feeds (including the ones on LJ, which is totally just an aggregator for me these days). I took a picture of myself with my camera phone. I read some BSG fanfic and wished, again, that I could write decent sex scenes. Now I’m…sitting. And it feels very odd.

I used to crave solitude the way some peope crave cigarettes. I’ve always been someone who has no problem going to a movie by myself or spending an entire day reading a book. On the other hand, I loathe sleeping alone and I get weird if I go too long without talking to anyone, but there you go. My incongruousness is endearing. You were totally just thinking that.

Now that I have a moment to myself, I feel like I should do something to take advantage of it. Paint my toenails, or clean the house, or write a paper. Something. Instead I’m doing the same thing I do when the baby’s in the room, only without the constant interruption and frequent play breaks. Solitude, these days, feels like a deadline I’ve got to meet. It’s exhausting.

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