This scary week is over. No major triumphs, no earth shattering victories - other than slaying a few microscopic dragons. Sometimes making it through in one piece with one's dignity (mostly) intact has to be enough. Next week is going to be killer, but I'm trying to focus on small tasks so I don't get totally overwhelmed. LIttle known scientific fact: Corporate drones will withstand all manner of abuse/degradation if promised Camembert on apple slices at the day's end.
And now I am looking forward to tonight when I can concentrate on getting my homework done for my writing class and to tomorrow when I head out to the Little House. As excited as I am to return to the house after what feels like a long absence, the tragedy of this summer makes me feel as though there is an unsettled spirit there. I'm ashamed to admit how much of a weenie I am, but I'm a little freaked out. I haven't even made my peace with the dark (skeletons in my bed! Scary faces pressing against the window in a menacing fashion!), opaque shower curtains (mother-crazed man knifing me!), and quiet country roads (Children of the Corn! Dead body falling onto the windshield!), much less ghosts. Sage branches, anyone?
Image: New Year’s Eve, Times Square, 1951. Dan Weiner via art blart.
