the comfort of objects
I have approached dressing without interest since my return from my trip. That is, if it is possible to not take an interest in what I'm putting on and yet feel satisfied by my appearance when I walk out the door each day?
The dominant mood buster at the moment is work, which evokes a gamut of emotions, none of them especially positive. But my wardrobe has been reliable. It is of some comfort to me to reach absently for something in my closet and find it perfectly appropriate without dwelling on it too much. Occasionally, I pull out a piece I'm especially fond of that evokes a particular memory, and I smile.
Ordinary things that feel special keeps me going. Fresh flowers. The laughter of one of my oldest friends. A handful of roasted almonds. Cool, dry breeze on a sunny day. Reaching the bus stop just as the bus arrives.
And the occasional Liz Lemon morale booster: "And one day they will name a sandwich after me." Dream big.
How's everyone's week coming along?