Today, I'm airing out the house. Both doors open, fans on, music playing. The air has gotten stale in here. I washed the sheets too, emptied boxes, hung pictures. I feel this urge to...freshen up. Make things clean again, and good.
Over the winter, I kept telling myself "It's not as bad as it's been before. It's been worse and you've dealt with worse." But coming out of the last few months is almost a tangible feeling, like coming out of sticky black mud. It's been worse before but it was pretty bad this time, in retrospect.
I find myself wanting to wander around, like I did when I was unemployed. Apparently, when dealing with throwing off a deep sadness, I'm compelled to wander. I decided last weekend that it was high time to go get my bike fixed, so this morning I washed my hair, tied it back with a scarf, threw on some old sunglasses Candace gave me about 12 years ago and those pants that don't fit me at ALL(but that I'm in love with) (but seriously, they barely stay on and can be taken on and off without unzipping or unbuttoning) and walked over to Oak (after a brief yard sale stop with Shelby, where we got hanging lamps for the porch). I dropped the bike off and then walked around for an hour and a half. Up and down Oak, Dublin, Hampson, Carrollton, while listening to a couple of Mirah CDs on shuffle. In the midst of it, I thought to myself, "I am so fucking happy." It was kind of a surprising thought, honestly, but I turned it over a little and came to the conclusion that I am, in fact, so fucking happy. And, more surprisingly, happy because I was alone, happy in my solitude and wandering and feeling alive again. I love those little revelatory moments and I feel like I've been having a slew of them these last few months. I feel like I'm recovering lost parts of myself and making it whole again.