Sunday evening commentary

Today was quite the day. I didn't sleep well last night, because I was twitching at every thump, click and bark. After about four hours of sleep, I was up and getting ready for church, where we talked about forgiveness. I have to admit that I did a bang-up job of facilitating the conversation, and people were VERY pleased. As I stood there leading the conversation, I kept thinking about the elements of my own life in which I need to apply some forgiveness. I've been working with being grateful for the things that I do have, consistent with what we were discussing, whatever Chuck teases me about to the contrary.

After church, dropped off the car load of stuff for the church garage sale - and, even though the car was chock full, it feels like I've done a rather pathetic job of culling through all this stuff and letting go. Of course, this week the Divo eBay sale kicks off, which will release a bunch more stuff, but still .. it just felt so ... feeble. Like, I should give away about 70% of clothes, since they don't fit and I don't wear them. Chuck was telling me this afternoon that I MUST do some serious clothes shopping.

Tomorrow, I have a hugely full day. Oh, my. I have so damned much to do it's frightening. I have to execute well, and be on three different sides of the county at one time. Yurg. At least I'll have Babs' help tomorrow. She'll have to do some of my running around for me.

Chuck bought my bowling ball. I bought a cassette tape case that wall mounts just like my CD cases, which need to be put up on the wall in the closet.

Maybe tomorrow evening.

After dropping off the stuff, we had greek food, then off to Berryhill for Philip's 40th birthday. That was weird. Pleasant with Philip and Melissa, but weird. We
were there a while, then I dropped Chuck off at home, drove home and cleaned like a whirlwind for a few hours until Chuck came over followed by Ben and Robert - nicknamed T&D. We watched the Sopranos, then Real Time with Bill Maher.

T&D were in a weird space. It was great having the house cleaned, the snacks prepared and ready for them, and so on. Kind of the way I like to run my ship - all organized, tidy and hosting people for pleasant times.

Today, a woman at church interacted with Chuck from the perception that he and I were in a commited partnership. He's not, but he is my proto-husband. This is a concept that I created - proto following from the use of the word proto in this sense - "`proto' is a combining form in a word like `protolanguage' that refers to the hypothetical ancestor of another language or group of languages.

So, proto-husband is the hypothetical husband, or precursor husband. The pre-husband. husband 1.0 beta.

And, I think I'm quite okay with that. He's a great companion, and I love being with him. Maybe proto-husband is just the right thing for now.

Anyway, he's still here - we're watching "Constantine" and computing on our respective laptops.

He thinks my internet connection is slow. It's not that great, true.

This week, I have the utility bills to pay, and I want to manifest a cooktop. A black, ceramic/glass, downdraft, electric 30" cooktop in great shape for cheap.

Only twenty days to figure out how to finance my new car. Loans to close before that.

I asked yesterday about being made the corporate secretary (more like board secretary/legal counsel) for a forming international non-profit. It pays wonderfully, and involves a lot of higher brain function work. It would be the kind of job that would allow me to get caught up, stay in a house like this. Have options.

So, Cassandra the psychic told me that this house was numerologically bad. So, if it's done unto me as I believe, doesn't that mean that this poor house is NOT cursed by the lottery of its address assignment, but that its subject to the beliefs of the person who owns or occupies it?

If I had the cash flow and down payment to afford this house, and the wherewithal to repair and rehab it, why would it be bad for me financially? Unless I believed that it was possible, anyway.

I don't believe in pre-destiny.

Or, is this my being resistant to changing, just as I was in living in that apartment for eight years?

I love this house, but I'm still engaged in fear. Fear of Guns' temper (I fired him as a client last night, and he's pissed. You should hear the voice mail he left me. Such vitriol. I'm still processing that whole deal - my side of it - within the framework of what we talked about today at NV) Fear of Mitchell showing up drunk. Fear of whatever the heck else coming in the door. Fear of .. lack. Fear of not having enough motivation. Fear of .. what? What is it that drives all of this fear of mine? Last night, I just lay there letting the fear and adreneline wash over me. I didn't resist it, just let it come on ahead.

What is it, though?

What? Maybe a clue would be helpful.

This movie is nearly over .. so it's going to be time to hit the sack.