dear world,

this is amazing. yesterday i was taking a nap and i guess i was all hot cause Kevin turned on the ceiling fan. and it's been on ever since. I don't think we've ever turned it on. it turns and makes a whirrwhirwhirr noise and also a rhythmic kind of clicking noise and also it moves around the air and makes it cool. basically everything you would expect from a ceiling fan. after we did laundry and I had to spend an agonizing two and a half minutes downstairs among other people, I came into this room and the word sanctuary floated all through my person for two reasons:

one. a clean carpet.
two. a moving ceiling fan.

I'm serious. I think this ceiling fan wants to be my pal.

sigh.

I think I'm in a bad way. I could cry about it to you but it's already past bedtime. I'm also pretty sure indulging these feelings make them stronger. Chinese fingertraps. Talking about ceiling fans fills me with simple joy.

I am hoping this is where I recommit to the deed, to change. Choose to take action, go through an ordeal of enacting that change but then be presented with a similar challenge, as though battling the villain who has regained his strength and appears to be stronger. This is where I prove I am actually committed to the change and not just willing to walk the path as long as the wind blows my way.

Right?

Tell me that's what this is, a ceremony of rededication and soon we will have the re-grand opening, we'll tape the ribbon back together just to cut it in a fresh section, a matter of ritual.

Tell me that's what this is and that I am not doomed to an ever-repeating cycle of fighting against myself and eventually, someday, giving in.

lovesara