Existential Sock Talk

Holy cow, there are fantastic corner wooden plant stands on Amazon. I’m a fastidious perfectionist, so I’ll scour every review and photo of them, take tape measurements of the wall and maybe even use blue painter’s tape to map the location.

I told Dave my birthday wish of having an Airbnb-level clean house this week. A trip into the kitchen showed leavings of brown sugar and flour on the floor, which is less than a 5-star experience. That a coffee cake he and Evelyn made will exit the 350-degree stove in less than 10 minutes, I am willing to make sacrifices.

In previous years I poo-pooed my big day as a “Nothing to see here, move along” sort of ‘tude. But after a friend mentioned her birthday is like a holiday just for her, I’m thinking of doing the same. Shouldn’t it be ok to celebrate me!?

Funny enough, I’ll be cooking Gorgonzola gnocchi for family and a few of our friends. I’m pleased to cook a dish that’s a reminder of the trip our married friends took to Paris together.

I keep forgetting I have a session this evening. This isn’t a problem since I’m caught up on cleaning the duck’s bedding and water, doing 30 minutes of yoga, talking to my writing partner, and completing work-related tasks.

Still, I feel something’s wrong, or I’m doing something wrong. It’s a defeated, I can’t win, so why try kind of feeling.

Follow me on this, could it be related to my own death and the fear that, in the end, it will all have been for not? Which, if true, means what I do now matters all the more. So I suppose waiting for my death to confirm I’m living a life of value is not the way.

I got the coziest, most awesome pair of socks in the mail. See this post’s picture. My first reaction was, “what the heck is this” thinking it was a scarf or gloves. Once they were on and constantly embracing my feet and ankles, I knew a love affair was in the works.

I’ve been having a hard time signing off from these posts. It’s as if part of me doesn’t want to leave, yet I don’t know what else to say. So I sit awkwardly, like when there’s nothing left in the tank when I’m peeing. I guess it’s time to wipe and flush.

Love, Jaclynn

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