Drizzle and gray, again. Today.
The old familiar cat-gut tune growls in my head: You are wasting your life. You are wasting your life. You are wasting your life...
One thing these dreams have done for me is to make me want desperately to rid myself of stuff. In my dreams I am always constantly searching for huge black garbage bags to fill with the detritus which fills the dreamscape houses I find myself so rudely occupying. I am being forced to cook for people and I open ovens to find trays and trays of left-over pizza, even a cleverly hidden tray filled with drugs and apparatus, those neatly arranged. I must throw them away, throw them away, but even as I pull one tray of whatever from the oven, more appear.
It is a Fantasia of Filth.
So. Today I've gone through closets and culled a bit. A bit. Not nearly enough. I told Lily the other day that all of my clothes either don't fit me or are worn out.
There is some truth to this.
But. What do you do with, oh, say, pictures painted by a dead uncle whom you hardly knew which you do not really care for but which none of his own children want? Do you give them to the Goodwill? Do you just keep them stacked by a wall until the time comes when you or your children are forced to get rid of them? My god, people. The stuff in our lives! I know. I've spoken of this so often before. And in 99% of the cases, it is not the stuff itself you cling to but the emotional attachment we so falsely attribute to it all. If it all disappeared tonight, we would never even notice.
This is why I really have no desire to shop any more. Whatever I may find that I briefly think I want, I remember what I already have and am crushed by the need for less. Yesterday I piled up junk I'd gathered for Mr. Moon to take to the dump. An ugly office chair, the frames of two other chairs which had lost all of their wooden parts long ago. The boys' box house. A rusted, busted dog crate. You can't see any difference. None at all.
I feel paralyzed by all of it, by everything. I need to call Verizon. I need to call the dentist to get that damn implant situation set up. It's stopped raining enough for me to take a walk and then I'll get in the garden and plant stuff.
That's a plan.
Almost like having a life.
Happy Monday, y'all.