Right now the wind is throwing itself against my window with enough force that I can hear the glass shaking. It’s screaming too – that kind of howling that makes you want to nosedive under the covers or take a really long, really hot bath. At least, that is what gloomy evenings do to me; they make my old bones crave a good soak.
Ryan likes to tease me because I generally stay in the tub until I am well passed prune-y and I have had to refill the water at least three times because the water keeps getting cold. Baths are my happy place. My “me” place. My very best thinking happens in the tub. I mean really, it is my life’s ambition to own a bathtub in which I can lay down flat and not touch any of the sides. That would be bliss I tell you. Possibly even celestial.
Lately I have been taking more baths, which is probably a direct correlation to the stew that seems to be my thought process. You see I have been feeling a little bit of something that I don’t really know how to describe; there just isn’t a perfect word for what I feel. I’m not unhappy; on the contrary, I am feeling so very aware of my many blessings.
So, for the sake of naming a seemingly nameless sensation, I will call my current emotional state one of being “in-between”. Basically I feel kind of like one chapter of my life is down to the last sentence but the author (aka me) is suffering from writer’s block and can’t quite seem to figure out how to start the next section.
Until I figure out what the heck to do next (babies, grad school, house hunting, oh my!) you can find me in the bathtub, meditating. But that’s probably not something you really want to see. For your own sake.