I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 2022
Happy New Years, everyone! As I type this, Poor Mike is suffering a migraine. Meanwhile, I’ve finished cooking (and eating) my new year's black eyed peas, started a load of dishes in the dishwasher, re-started a load of laundry, fixed a pot of tea, and am now sitting down with a cup under my toasty heated blanket. The temperature outside is dropping dramatically from the high 70s that we’ve been seeing, and there’s a freeze advisory tonight. The wind is picking up outside, and the darkening sky is bringing the house into shadow. Of course, I’ve lit some candles and still have our Christmas lights up, so it’s a very cozy atmosphere. After the past few months, it is nice to just “be” in a cozy spot. Every day, I feel dragged down by my own chemical depression and the grief of our miscarriage, not even considering the pandemic stresses on top of it all. I don’t want to be this zombie, who has been getting through the day, but I also don’t want to be fake smiling all the time, either