It’s late. I’m tired. Time for a happinesses post!
A mostly tidy bedroom. It took hours, but I’ve moved furniture around, bagged up clothes for donation, moved two bins of stuff I need to sort through into my storage room (also reorganized). I still have to deal with the mess on my dresser, but we’re talking two square feet of mess. I can handle that. Why does this make me happy? Partly because this is my space and I’m reclaiming it. Partly I’m putting things back the way they used to be. Partly because it’s a change.
A stack of books by my bed. Some are ones I haven’t yet read. Some are ones I tried to read but just couldn’t get in to, for whatever reason. A couple are old favourites I rediscovered. They’re sitting there, at least a dozen small worlds on paper, waiting for their turn.
Good news from Joanne! She and Paul have sold their condo. Friends being happy makes me happy.
I know I’ve written this before, but I’ll do it again. I’m fortunate, blessed even, to have the friends and family that I do.
My bed. My bed in my clean room with a fan blowing full force. A forest-dwelling friend of mine years ago once suggested I could move out of the house I lived in and join him in the woods around Simon Fraser University. When I politely declined, he asked me what I would miss the most. “My bed,” I replied, not even having to think about it for a moment, and this pretty much ended the conversation. What I meant was a comfy, clean, warm, dry, safe place to sleep and recharge. Okay, and also a lack of bugs, and no leaves and twigs to pull out of my hair during morning classes. But I’m getting sidetracked and rambling. Clearly, I’m tired. Right now, I’m about to go and watch Cameron sleep for a couple of minutes, and then I’ll curl up in my bed and sleep. That makes me happy.