Energy. I’ve heard the word used several times this week in different contexts with different people, strange since I’ve been lacking my usual supply. There have been some financial surprises (in addition to the locksmith’s fee), illness in the family, frustrations at work, a gust of wind that caught the deck umbrella just right and knocked over my table, shattering the glass top into a million little pieces, most of which wedged between the deck slats and had to be picked out with a metal bar before I could vacuum them up. Much needed rain arrived on Sunday afternoon and hung around until Tuesday, bringing with it cooler temps. Any one or two or three of these events could happen any other week and I’d be fine. This week, they’ve affected my overall mood. I’m low on energy. I’ve written very little, read a bit more, watched some TV, accepted I’m not at my best.
Last night I made breakfast for dinner, egg over easy on pumpernickel toast with avocado and tomato, met a friend for coffee, came home and lit some candles. As I sat writing this quick post, the subtle scent of vanilla and gardenia, coaxed from the melting wax, wafted through the air. I’m being gentle with myself and know that this too shall pass.