Really, I should know by now.
I have this lovely routine of writing in my journal every morning. It helps get the junk out of my head, sets me up for the day, and helps me stay in the present.
I missed today.
Now it's 11 p.m., I need to be wide awake and up and at em and early tomorrow, but instead I'm writing on my blog, because the junk in my head from this morning saturated with junk in my head from this afternoon.
Oh the thinking about work, the thinking about this, that, the other thing, all the things that don't matter. The things that will be forgotten, the things that won't be, the things I did, the things I didn't do, the things I may have not done quite right, things things things... in my mind.
So I'm trying to regain a sense of presence, of moment.
All I can come up with so far is I'm annoyed that I'm letting things get to me, knowing full well those things are small, petty and shall pass, as most things do. I'm annoyed I didn't write in my journal. I have a goal with that journal, a destination, a journey!
So how to get rid of the things roaming in my head, to stay in the present?
My Mermaid teal colored nails are just long enough now that most of my typing is by nail rather than fingertip. They look cool, because they are polished this sea-green color apparently found in Mermaid's tears, however, it's exceptionally impractical, and annoying, so clearly, I am not a person who enjoys long nails. I don't even enjoy the sound. I prefer the sound of actual finger pads on keys rather than nails. There is a subtle difference! It's in the strike. The strike of a nail is harder. This matters people, this matters. I shall be visiting my local nail salon to rectify the matter this weekend, I hope.
That is my moment, my present. My daughter is upstairs not in bed, but cleaning her room, in hopes of being able to spend some of her time off with this boy that lingers outside our house with her in the afternoon, after school. Hmmm......
I hear the sounds of a house settling at night. A snoring husband. The ever-present noise of the heater pumping out air or heat or, when it's feeling impish, what seems like cold air, but I'm assured by the thermometer is heat. Water running through pipes from teenager who's not in bed. Cats. I don't hear cats. This is because my cats are ninjas.
All of this is my now, my present. The recessed lights in the dining area are on, but the lights here in the living room are off. It's really just one room, but whatever. Townhome living, it'll do.
I'm on my green couch, which we've had since right before the boys were born, and it's well worn! I'm wearing a shirt that may, possibly, be just as old. It's comfortable.
I'm contemplating going to bed now because this has relaxed me, and reminded me that things pass and after they pass, they are often forgotten, and that this present, this moment, matters.
So, g'night, all, sleep tight.
Teal colored nails clacking on a keyboard - who would have thought that would put me to sleep?