This keeps happening to me. I'm sleepwalking through the days, and not taking note of anything worth writing about. I don't do this to keep track of my daily habits. I do this so I remember how I feel about the things that go on around me. There wasn't a whole lot of emotion inspired by picking out beige paint chips at Lowe's. Sorry. Maybe that makes me cold-hearted. Maybe I'm not a good early-2020s Instagram girl.
I'm still tip-toeing towards 2024 as reluctantly as ever. So much of the last decade has been "whoa, 2013 was the worst year ever...surely 2014 will be better," and so on. I know you all feel it to. Sure, it's fun to joke that our timeline went off track when Prince or David Bowie died, or some similar bit of pop culture tragedy. But we really have been reeling off-kilter for years, and none of us seems to know how to stop it. The best I can do is take time each night just to come to peace with it. I find comfort in normalcy, so if I seem inordinately pleased by repotting a tiny sansevieria, just assume that was me performing some self-care. (I wish I had taken its picture while the grow lights were still on. It was really cute.)
My mother has been begging me to take up meditation for most of my life. My brain doesn't allow me to mute it to do so properly. I do, however, daydream very, very well. That will have to suffice. If other people are capable of focusing inward with a quiet mind, I can at least perform a systems check and download into paragraph form, clearing the cache for some healing daydreams. That is my final task of the day, and I'm off to complete it.
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