Several Good Things

I'm channeling The Martha today with my domesticity.

Which is surprising, since I am usually totally useless around the house when I'm this tired. For whatever reason, I haven't slept well for two nights in a row. Possible Reasons: my stomp-happy new upstairs neighbour? Withdrawal from the white noise that was once provided by my air conditioner, forcibly wrenched out of my life and into basement storage by building management (this is a matter to be dealt with in another post, not to mention copious bitching to co-workers, friends, and strangers on the subway)?

For the first time in several days, I can safely say I was not kept awake by mind-numbing circular stress-thoughts about work projects, or financial planning, or the other Usual Suspects that tend to drag me up out of sleep and into a wide-eyed, tensed-up stress coma.

So whatever it was that kept me from sleeping well, I woke up peaceful this morning. After spending Friday night with my girlfriends, strutting around our university town wearing matching short dresses and matching sassy attitudes (Sassitudes?), and spending Saturday evening having dinner with family, I was feeling good today. Far enough removed from the chaotic, barely-controlled organization that is my work week, to be able to think about doing something at home other than burrowing into quilts and pillows and hiding my brain inside a book. Most weekends I don't feel like I get enough head space to be able to contemplate things like doing laundry, re-organizing shelves, taking a walk, cooking real food. I get panicky at the thought of the precious minutes slipping away too quickly towards Monday morning, and I try to hang on to my Me Time so hard that I end up doing nothing.

Happily, today was different. Granted, I didn't leave the house, but I felt good being here. I contemplated certain aspects of the redecoration that is constantly going on inside my head, and which is slowly becoming reality in my apartment. My aunt and uncle (henceforth to be known as Martha's Glorious Elves) brought over a set of perfect white dishes for me, which they no longer need since they've been given a fancier set. It propelled me into a frenzy of dish-washing, cupboard-organizing, dinner-cooking domesticity that hasn't been seen around here since my last birthday party. It struck me, not for the first time, how wrong it is that I tend to clean only when other people are coming over, and not just for myself... especially since I really love my apartment and the way the afternoon light falls in on my table and chairs, my bookshelves (pride and joy), my picture frames -- all these things which I picked out myself and have arranged in a way that pleases me. I should make more of an effort to keep things tidy enough that I remember why I love hanging out here, and not just because I'm hiding from real life.

Tomorrow morning I will blow-dry my hair and put on mildly uncomfortable clothing and slap a determined look on my face and head deeper into the forest of city office buildings that make up my nine-to-five life. But for now, I'm wearing my grey Henley and a ponytail, the Christmas twinkly lights are on above the window, and there are art-canvas pictures waiting to be put up on the wall.