I didn’t think I was going to make it. Then I thought I was going to make it. Then I thought I wasn’t. I thought about those celebrities who go to rehab but say it’s for “exhaustion” and I thought that maybe sometimes it really is exhaustion and not drugs. I thought of myself – silent and alone – for days. Feverish and delirious. I wondered who would swoop in and do ten boxes of data entry. Who would do the eight blog posts a week I’ve been averaging? Who would edit the 11 outstanding photo sessions I have to do? Not outstanding, like, “This work is outstanding!” but outstanding like, “This photo session was over two weeks ago – your very beloved clients are waiting for you to edit their photos in time for the holidays, you fool.”
And so, I celebrated the end of the project by taking my birthday girl, Athena, to the dog park in the cold drizzle. Then the kids came back from 48 hours away and we’re reunited and it feels so good, and then I took a bath to take away the chill of the dog park. And now I’m linking up to Finish the Sentence Friday at the 11th hour, before it closes at 9:00pm tonight!
Maybe you opened up this post, wondering if the title meant I’d suddenly gone religious or something. Not a chance. I’ll stay in my weird, spiritual, celebrating all the holidays zone, though. Rather, I heard this blast-from-the-past song yesterday:
And I wondered, “Who will saaaaave your data entry?” “Who will saaaaave your blog posts?” “Who will saaaave your 11 photo sessions, because you can’t save your own?” Somehow it’s all connected, except that I don’t worry about someone saving my soul. It’s just fine, thanks, but a perpetual work-in-progress. I worry about doing the right things for it – and being the best person I can be. And sometimes that means biting my tongue and swallowing back my fire-hot retorts and insults. Often.
It means acknowledging that I hate loud noises, and always have, and that when I watch TV with other people and I choose the volume, they ask me to turn it up. When they choose the volume level, I think they’re hard of hearing. It means that I sometimes don’t answer my family members because I have headphones in my ears, pumping classical music if I need to concentrate fully, and Pandora if I don’t. It means surrounding my ears, and my soul, with the sounds I like the most.
And sometimes it’s ok if things are loud, like following Cassidy into a darkened movie theater last night, past the screen, up the stairs, and in the high seats – in the middle. With trailers so loud, I wonder about the human race, while loving it at the same time. It’s about knowing when it’s ok if things are loud, and saying that it’s sometimes not ok when things are loud.
Lately, it’s the hum of the pellet stove. The sound of the thud from the cat jumping from couch to floor. A dreamy sigh from the dog. The mouse clicking. Me sighing. A piece of candy being unwrapped. By me. The mouse clicking again. Sighs all around. The cat batting at the dog batting at the cat. My voice as I laugh and murmur to the pets. Another candy being unwrapped. The mouse clicking again. The sound of hand to skin as I stroke my chin and figure out my next move:
Black and white or color?
This is me linking up, as one of my favorite things to do, with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week’s topic is “The sounds around me…” And there’s still (barely) time to write yours. Come link up with your spin on the matter: HERE.