It crept up silently. The economy of motion was comparable to one fingering a light switch. Even the Mister noticed it and he’s a guy. I ran out of words. Not sad, but empty. It was like walking through a vacant warehouse, the only sound is the repetition of your footsteps echoing across bare floors, and the only movement, your liquid shadow. A few days passed, my period arrived, and I wrote the whole experience off as being hormonal. I like to fantasize about being unshakably reasonable and above the influence of estrogen, but Mother Nature is a twisted sadist who likes to fuck with me too.

I regained purpose, or rather, busied myself with completing as much painting, and maintenance as I could tackle. Transient thoughts weaving through my mind, in synch with my music playlist, but nothing requiring the capacity to dwell. The Mister came home for a few days, and then departed again. We’re nearing the end of the interior work. It seems I’ve been nesting forever, but in truth it’s mostly a bunch of painting, and a small bathroom facelift, interrupted by trips downtown to eat awesome food, buy fresh produce, or get the Mister a chiropractic adjustment. I find comfort in the ordinary.

Later, when I tackled the bathroom, it struck again. There was a small inconvenience derailing progress, and I almost let it defeat me. It took more time than it should have for me to right my head and get back on track, but for hours, I found myself sliding downhill with the parking brake engaged.

It happens frequently. I engage myself with machine-like precision and endurance completing a series of tedious yet un-glorious task, and I maintain the pace longer than many could, yet ultimately I jump the track due to some inconsequential inconvenience. An inconvenience, that challenges me to get over myself. It’s that minor hiccup, the proverbial straw, that is remembered and dwelled upon, not the head of steam that produced the bulk of the progress. I long to turn off my head some days as I am often my own worst enemy.

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peacockx.jpg

A gift to the new bride and groom. I noticed the peacock was a recurring theme in their wedding announcement and invitation. I thought it might be significant. Colored pencil. Not a subject, I would choose for myself, but it was appropriate to honor the occasion, and well received. Part of the joy in making art, is capturing the spirit of the recipient.