The smell of marijuana has been coming into the house, again, lately. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve lost several days to sickness. This has coincided with a few other complications that would normally be hard, but manageable.
My husband used weather proofing kits to seal the windows while I sat around in my pajamas, worried but hopeful. It came in, anyway, and it was harder to air out the house.
I can’t really function, but I’ve been insistent on forward movement, anyway, crawling forward like a medieval soldier unable to support the weight of his own armor.
I’ve been reading the existentialists, journaling, and consulting the tarot. Two queens crossed in the center of last night’s spread, cups and wands. My sensitivity is at odds with my desire to create. Both are developed. Both are powerful.
What do I believe? That there are no atheists in fox holes.