When it's time to do your taxes

It’s been two whole days. Two whole days since I was “on”…full of the energy of giving my presentation at the Unity Church.

Yesterday:

I’m mad right away because my mouse doesn’t work after Angie tried to use the mouse control disk as a thumb drive while I was out giving my talk. Then because my computer isn’t working right anyway. I sleep in (the morning after – couldn’t hardly sleep the night before from the “high” of it) and I’m tired and I only have an hour before work, and the darn thing is more sluggish than me. I wait and wait for it to boot up. Wait and wait for the internet. Even wait for Word. Then the computer decides it’s ready to shut off for no reason. It used to at least warn me that it was closing down for updates (which always bugged me to no end) and I’m wondering if Angie was on it and changed the prompt. I’m more bugged.

Then she’s got Henry crying before I even come out of my room and then a scene ensues in front of me. Does she think “scenes” are normal? I’ve got to call my therapist today. I think she does. She’s “teaching” him. This morning to not have his chocolate milk with his grandpa, drinking it from a spoon, because he’s got to grow up and use a cup. He uses a cup 99% of the time. Why can’t he have his moment with his grandpa? Five minutes in a long day? Why must she yank him away and make him cry? I can’t stand it.

Anger is a catalyst to change. Anger is a catalyst to change. Anger is a catalyst to change. So is love. Love is a catalyst to change. Love is a catalyst to change. Love is a catalyst to change. Got to remember that too.

Evening:
I tell Jimmy Joe (one of the two cockatiels—the loudest) to shut up. I catch Simeon (one of the two cats – the most persistent) from making his 23rd attempt to jump off the top of the couch onto my lap and my laptop. As I assist him (okay, kind of throw him) from midair over the laptop, past the edge of the coffee table and toward the door, he scratches my nose. It bleeds.

Today:
I’m up at 5:30, before, as Henry says, the day is here, but I don’t notice the sky until six when it’s already lightening.

It’s not even 6:30 now but I’m noticing and it’s a beautiful sky. Blue above, white beneath, orange on the bottom, then the ground still dark. I love that. Just the top of the yard showing – as if all that’s out there is tree “tops” and no ground level mess. Tree tops where there’s nothing to do. No problems. No angst. I begin to calm down.

Man, I was so blazing hot for a few days. My presentation came together when my talk was still a few days away and the creative zone didn’t leave me. I was inspired. I blogged. I wrote emails. I didn’t have enough time to put all my inspiration into words.

Since then, there’s practically nothing there. A few tendrils hung before the crash that’s left me unable to get inspired no matter how hard I try. (Note to self: trying never works.) Brought the latest book review of a Louise Erdrich title with me to get me going this morning if all else fails.

Sometimes, when all else fails, the best you can do is to complain. Or look at the sky.

Or be still.

But to be still in between one thing and the next, I have found, takes a little time. I know, I know. It’s only been two days. I know it takes at least three. Sometimes three weeks. You’ve been “on” so long in a good way that turning “off” feels like a plight. You’re brain dead and weary and restless rather than heart full and still. There is a difference. You’re in need of a certain movement back to resting, to gestation. You’ve got to be a fallow field because there ain’t nothing that’s going to grow out of your dirt. You’ve got dirt instead of earth. You’ve run dry.

I’ve got taxes planned for the weekend. It’s good timing.