Its funny. I'm finding I have less and less to say of anything that feels important, the longer I live alone. Don't get me wrong, my mind still flows at a thousand miles per hour from subject to subject. It's just all in my head. Like talking to yourself in silence.
I like my weekend silences. I try to see if I can go an entire day without uttering a word. And I've been able to do it. It's usually Sunday. It's an easy day to hide from the frigid, harsh world. My little escape from it, is my favorite place in Chicago. I almost have it looking like I want it to. I can't afford new furniture or anything like that, so I make it look as much like me as I can; with all the odds and ends and pieces of lives, I've collected along my journey. Shrinking down is always good for me. And getting rid of trinkets that no longer mean what they did, or before they mean nothing, is a form of healing that all water signs are not only proficient at, we're almost ceremonial. I blame the gypsy witch in me. She really can't sit still for long.
But other than sage-ing my studio again on the autumn equinox and watching season four of Doctor Who. (really Donna's season is one of the best, in my opinion. Everyone makes an appearance that year.) I'm trying to relax this weekend in preparation for my first bit of company this fall. I'll tell you all about after.
Cheers
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