Late on Tuesday afternoon, me, the cats, and our overstuffed Corolla rolled up to our new home here in Southern Indiana. Within two hours of our arrival, the car was unloaded, the cats were hiding under the bathroom sink (always what my instinct is during traumatic times, so seems a legit response), and my housemate and I were eating pizza and watching Archer re-runs. Every now and then I got up from the couch and meandered to the back porch doors, where I gazed out at the back area. There are some dead flowers that I THINK are hydrangeas...
...for years, I've wanted to live in a place where hydrangeas can grow. So I suppose dead hydrangeas are a step in the right direction, no?
Eventually, I inflated my air mattress and positioned it almost under the window, and collapsed into an exhausted heap on the bed. Sleep didn't come immediately, for I was too wired, and then I saw that I could see the full moon from my window, and the silvery-white light shone directly down onto my bed--a perfect set-up for late night contemplative ponderings.
Just because I am now seeing my dream-life unfold doesn't mean I won't be a little bit melancholic, ya know? I'm still me.