I’m still getting used to living with my Traveling Partner again. I apparently forget to write… a lot. LOL Well… there’s some good writing archived here, in older posts, and a lovely reading list… I figure we’re good here, and the occasional miss isn’t likely to cause me (or, realistically, you) any real harm. πŸ˜‰ I’m still adapting old routines into new routines. Still adjusting to small changes and differences in my day-to-day experience that are part of the new normal. Change is still a thing, and amusingly, remains a constant I can count on. πŸ˜€

Most mornings on which I leave for work without writing, I do so promising myself I’ll maybe write on my lunch break, or perhaps after work… then I work through my “lunch break”, head home, and spend a lovely intimate connected evening of partnership, love, and joy, and forget all about it. I wake, notice I didn’t write, and overlook it again. lol I smirk at myself and sip my coffee; it takes me some time.

The city. The snow falling.

I left work early, yesterday, and finished the day from home. It was snowing pretty steadily.

The view from home, still snowing.

It snowed yesterday, all day and into the evening. It didn’t start sticking until later in the afternoon, and although it snowed rather a lot, and the flakes stuck, some, there’s very little cause for concern this morning, and the road in front of my house is only wet, not icy or covered in snow. I could work from home… but it doesn’t seem necessary at all. I sip my coffee and consider which makes more sense today… It’s very nice to have that choice. I take a moment to appreciate that, and seek to begin the day with gratitude.

Ups, downs, complicated plot twists, choices, actions, consequences, circumstances; all of it seems to require the same things of me. All of it requires that I adapt, that I adjust, and that I change – or make changes. Living life is very much about the verbs; there is effort involved, even in refraining from making an effort. There are choices involved, even in refusing to choose. We change, whether we choose change, or whether change chooses us.

I pause my writing, finish my coffee, and meditate. I return to the writing.

I woke ahead of the alarm, and got up expecting it to be a work from home day, but… it doesn’t really look like that’s necessary at all. πŸ™‚ I like the downtown location of my new job, and enjoying a couple hours surrounded by the urban buzz of downtown activity is still enjoyable, for now. The views from the 9th floor windows are still enticing. The convenience of the location still exciting. Besides… the views! Yesterday I began taking advantage of close-to-work parking on the other side of the river (less costly, still provides the convenience of having a shorter commute, puts a lovely walk into my commute) by walking from the parking location, over the bridge, and through the downtown business blocks to the office. It’s not a long walk, less than a mile, actually, and quite pleasant. The distance isn’t a goal, or a limitation, it’s only an observation. πŸ™‚ I find myself noticing I am eager to repeat that experience, and hopeful that the walkway across the bridge is not icy. Eagerness? Huh…

…Eagerness, specifically, is one of the first things I lose in life, when I am depressed, or unhappy, or stricken with anhedonia or ennui, and even when I am stressed out, or overwhelmed, or feeling weighed down with obligations, deadlines, and responsibilities. Eagerness may be a signpost of emotional wellness, for me… I had not previously considered that… had I? I sit with that for a few moments, and decide to make the commute into the office, for the pleasure of enjoying the walk. πŸ™‚ The morning feels mild, when I step outside to reality check my notion against the real-life feel of the morning.

I’m eager to begin again. πŸ™‚