2003-05-29 - 11:00 p.m.
This morning I was rushing out of the apartment, as usual, long after the boyfriend, and I shook my head at the unmade bed, my coffee cup sitting in the sink. The F1y L@dy would not be pleased. And I started thinking that there was a time that I would NEVER have left the house without making my bed. In the last years of my marriage I'd spend the last hour before bed walking through that huge house, putting shit away and running the dishwasher and setting up the coffee for the morning.And now, you know, screw it. I'm looser about it, really, who cares if the bed is made? What's the difference if I make the coffee in the morning, before I take a shower? I'd rather spend the hour before bed reading, or writing, or watching TV in bed with my man. Yeah, looser is what it feels like. It's clean in here, and that's good enough.
And then I wonder - am I liberated, or just depressed?
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last five entries:
done - 2005-09-16
playgroup, my ass - 2005-09-15
late, but heartfelt - 2005-09-13
she lives - 2005-08-18
cheese me - 2005-05-20