what a difference a day...

...or ten make. I was pretty darn grumpy the last time I posted, fo' sho. Sorry about that - things are really, for all of my bitching, quite lovely here in the Virginia 'burbs.

I'm sitting on the porch (yay!) in the almost-dusk, listening to the whir of the coke fridge and birds and the occasional thunderclap roll across the sky. My shoulders are bare, my hair is a humidity-frizzed mess, and my arms are probably covered in mosquitos, but if I don't actually SEE them then maybe they're not really there. I'm sipping a glass of wine that, while not exactly my cup of tea (?) is more enjoyable that I would've given it credit for. There's something to be said for cold and sweet-ish on a warm night, and for leaving preconceived notions at the door. Small surprises are lovely.

Work is about to blow up. Even with the small season the anxiety dreams are full-tilt...my subconscious doesn't quite believe, again, that I can actually get it all done. I hope, again, that he (me?) is wrong.

I have a fitbit that doesn't work. I am a faithful Weight Watchers food tracker until I reach the evening, and then the candy in the cupboard makes me its beeyatch. I will likely not shed those last (mumbledymumble) pounds before the summer begins. And, at this point...in the dark, on my porch, listening to the birdsong? I'm unconcerned.

I'm happy.

Wishing you a comfortable place to put your feet up, a bug-free outdoor space, a tall ice-filled glass that leaves puddles on your tabletop.


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