Waiting for Noah


I have to say that I woke up in the night and felt as though we were all waiting for some Divine body to appoint a new Noah. Gee whiz, how much rain do we all need? Oh, God, it has been relentlessly awful.

But someone up there heard me and the sun came out. I ate my lunch in the garden and smiled for a while. After that brief crack in the clouds I went back to being stressed again, like a good citizen and drove back to work wondering how I can finally accept my life exactly as it is. No resistance, no stress, no fear. Ah, me, that would be such bliss.

Truthfully I have been working towards that all my life. Well, all my sober life. It just gets slightly re-worded with a little more experience and time passing. 48 years of stress, I would have imagined that I might have got used to it and just shrugged it off. But no. I react and suffer the consequences.

It is so boring, but I suppose me and Pavlov’s dog must be related. It is the only excuse I have. That and trauma bonds. Bored of those, really I am.

Christmas is carefully laced through my beautiful emporium as of today. The divinely creative Philip waved some magical part of himself around the place and did things that I had run out of steam with. It looks gorgeous. Totally wonderful, and I am thrilled. Thrilled enough to let the stress go for now. Funny what it takes: a little bling and some incense and I am relaxed and happy again.