I feel like a drop of water that is dancing on a hot griddle.
Jittery and jumpy.
Sizzling and sputtering.
I just hope I don't evaporate and disappear too...
If the garden wasn't a sodden mud puddle, I would go out there and do some more meticulous cleanup of fallen leaves. More like a Martha Stewart level of weeding. Make it perfect, you know. But I don't want to get all muddy. But then if it was warm enough, I suppose one could garden with no clothes on and then come in and take a nice hot bath. I have never tried that. I'll have to add it to my, "To Do in This Lifetime" list. #97: Garden in the nude.
I've been knitting and crocheting like a madwoman lately. It's a pretty good thing to do when you feel restless. But if the restless quotient goes over a certain level, I can't sit still, so I toss the yarn and needles on the counter and start roaming around the house making lists of things to do if I could just focus, and settle and calm down.
Reading the news compulsively only worsens the problem. Speculations are not what I need right now. But that is all that seems to be offered. I'm swearing off until 5 o'clock anyway. No news is good news until 5. That's my plan.
I think I am going to have to go walk this one out. Go explore the creek or check out the open fields now that the ticks are probably dormant. I'll try to use up some of this nervous energy constructively.
Some days it sucks to be me.