As I sit at the edge of the bed *early* Sunday Morning, Melody joins me at my thigh and puts her head on my knee–a fairly new cuddling habit as of this year. She is less bothered by my jolts of movements and looks up at me with pleading eyes for pats.

She used to play hard to get. Now, I’m feeling psychologically unallowed to get up and pour myself a cup of coffee.

There is not a lot of serenity on a Sunday–not on this Sunday, either. I feel a little rocked by the comings and goings of things. There is chatter and upset in the Rooms below. I can’t hear everything they say, but their tones are strained by a troublesome nervousness. I have coasted on some large waves this summer, entirely immersed in only a couple of big things. Now I’m back on my home planet, with a cuddly cat restricting my coffee intake, moaning at fistfuls of vitamins, trying not to be a few minutes late to work everyday, planning holidays, plotting health, paying bills that sometimes turn into bigger bills as I pay them, trying to clean up and fix things and keep the house stocked, wondering if I will EVER clean out my car or if I will one day see it hauled off to the junkyard as is, and barely making the bed. What am I trying to say? What does this all add up to?

‘(Symbols of calculation)’

I guess I feel like I’m scraping by the skin of my left cheek. I feel like it’s cut a little too close, a little too thin, for me to feel truly safe and comfortable. I got a lot going for me, sure–cuddly cats, hot coffee, good work, good people–no arguing with that, it’s just not enough to halt the gut-wrenching negativity that spurs with each additional thread of thought or duty.

Melody puts her back against my leg so she can thoroughly wash her tail and underbelly.

Keith says it’s normal. All these brutal things I think and feel are normal. That helps sometimes.

But sometimes it doesn’t feel normal. Sometimes it feels so fucking bad, I think, surely this can’t be normal. God I hope it’s not, but if it is, and everyone feels the way I do, than humanity is actually doing way better than I ever thought.

Trivial matters. Common things. Surprise complications. A change of plans. It drives an explosive panic though my chest like a hot knife through buttah.

_10/15/23

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