When cleaning House
Feather dusters just aren't strong enough to fluff away sadness. It seems that the more I clean house, the more I organize the place I am living in, the more lonely I become. Never mind the cats, never mind the cell phone which connects me to the outer world. My bet is that the less I have to "busy" myself with, the more I notice that there is less in my life to distract me from ... well, me. And that brings me smack face to face with that elusive character I have tried to avoid all my life...me and who/what/how I am doing/being/committing my time and $$ towards. I rescue to rescue myself. But this endless facing of self is overwhelming at the moment. I don't know if it is the pressure to conform from work, the pressure to conform from my landlord or just the pressure generally. But I am exhausted and truly need to clean house on both levels -- physical and mental.