Self Care III

It be a fissurey tissure getting past the walls of on-going demands and regrets for lost comforts. Peeks through the cracks in those proverbial walls fill me with fears and anxieties of the unknown. Somehow that feels natural for this space and time. Far from pleasant, but dare I compare the discomforts to childbirth? There is a new future a-borning here.

I did manage to get my guitar out of its case this morning, amidst trepidation of disrupting the sleeping household. My trepidation was quickly validated by the baby, Big Sis and Hubs, but I appear to have sung them back to sleep. My greatest claim to guitar fame is getting audiences snoring in the aisles. Both my sons and several of their friends were raised with bedtime songs from either Hubs or I. YS never actually fell asleep until after the show was over, but he was quiet as a mouse and sure looked relaxed as he listened. I was able to sing rooms full of children to sleep at parties. A few adults went down with them. The guit-chi helped relax my gut knots with the sonic massage through the back of the sound box, but only a little. The tissures be fissuring and my chi is pretty bound in more spots that can be remedied in a single sitting. Works in progress. . .

The hole for the septic tanks is scheduled for this morning. I hope no cows fall into the hole before the new fence is installed next week. Drier weather is supposed to commence today. I have plans to open all the windows of the new house to air out the construction smells. There arenae too many old house smells which offend me more than new construction smells. Thems is some strong chemical compounds which go into contemporary construction.

I believe I am safe to leave the mood indicator for this journal at "okay." I've been better, but methinks I am holding steady.