I could easily spend five hundred words on it. I’m thinking more than five hundred words a day about it. Even if they’re stuttered, dancing words, edging forward, drawing back. But, there’s an odd sense of limbo about it, a sure Limbo, a definitive one. There’s more to come, more promised. A call and now, a response waiting. Even if that response was just a goodbye, I think, I’m guessing there’s one coming. It would be a selfish thing to do, though, dangerous, in my mind to start thinking more about what is…waxing poetic, building little sugary castles in my mind. It’s more than nothing, but not a lot more. I’ve walked away before with this size ante left on the table, and even if I’m staying here, judging my cards as worthy of play, there’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t be entirely ready to fold after whatever oddball revelations I shared this past go-round.
You don’t want to be with a person who would do things like that, but people do it all the time.
Right. I’m not jinxing anything with a negative attitude. I’ve sworn for Lent to give up negative assumptions. I have honestly no idea what will happen with this or anything else next week and you can build up such steam stressing about it in either direction, that when the next update occurs, you react differently than you might if this wasn’t the end-all and be-all of everything in your little screwy head. So. Onward and upward. First and foremost, I have to commit to an Amazon shopping cart. I’ve had this gift card for a month.
Tomorrow’s writing group. I’m really going to do my best to get myself a bit organized tonight for the morning so I don’t wake up so moody and scratching for any extra minute I can stay in bed. I want to be up at seven, not crawling into the daylight at 8:18 which is the last possible moment I can wake up and still have enough time to get myself clothed, and teeth brushed, and get something to eat for lunch in my bag. I can do a tiny bit better, right? The week’s already half over. We can make this happen.
Oh, the other exciting thing is that since my half-sister is getting married, there’s a good chance (we’re living in the realm of probabilities today) that she is going to have the ceremony not just any old place, but in her favorite city in the world: Stratford-on-Avon. Not just down the block….
And there, whoosh, comes something more. Another stone in the wheelbarrow, another plum for the icebox. A nervousness, an unsettled sort of delight. A charm and a whistle and a Piper heading down the road with a tune to follow after.
No, seriously, what the fuck is this? Is it amazing? Is it terrible? I must stop…I must stop trying to look ahead and get ahead of it. I am just here now.