transitions, part eight hundred fifty-seven.

Oh, lawdy.

I've written before about my struggles with transitions...and I'm right back there again. Tack a great show, a night of little sleep, an early morning wake-up as hubby hopped a plane to the midwest at o-dark-thirty, (and the subsequent two hours fielding crazy anxiety dreams before finally hauling my tired butt out of bed), a new project and a metric ton of dog barf (ew.) onto a long, exciting, exhausting season, and, well, welcome to my world.

I can't say that it's a safe mental neighborhood in which to wander around- you should come back when it's light out. It looks WAY more wholesome in the sunlight...

(I will say that having the presence of mind to set the coffee maker to auto-start this morning before I went to bed last night was a stroke of pure genius, and might've been the only reason that I actually made it to the radio station in time this morning.)

I woke up in the Pacific Northwest this morning, as the temperatures were beautifully cool in light of recent 90+ degree days. It was raining like we needed an Ark, and Lake Slew had formed at the corner of our property.  I've been recently wishing, praying for autumn to arrive...and with the the tired, raw feeling that comes with the end of the season, it really felt like my prayers had been answered.

I guess the thing I should be learning about these transitions is maybe to fight them less? To stay open and see what walks through the door? Because if today's any indication, the thing that walks through is just the thing I need.

(Well, except for the dog barf. I don't ever really need that.)

My five?
  1. Shifting gears.
  2. Small rooms filled with silly guys.
  3. The magical power of cookies.
  4. Texts from my 12-year-old nephew.
  5. Missing my hubster.
And for you? Another gem from the non-cutting-edge-but-awesomely-lyricked archives.

Edited to add: BUT WAIT! A new Simon's Cat cartoon? My day is indeed complete! And I am capital-L-Lame. But you knew that already...


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