Waiting for BG to come back to tickle my fancy. Nourishing self in the interim.
Self nourished with wine, swimming, biscuits and baby-yoga-steps.
Plan going not too astray. The odd shameful stalking. The odd skipped lunch. The dirty complexion. Will I break my routine and not wash-up tonight? Heaven forbid!! I'm cultivating routine and perpetuating it reduces effort, it seems. So I will do the washing up tonight. Will I wash my face? Need more face washers.
Saw inspiring doco the other night. Boris Rhyzy. Also saw and loved The Exploding Girl.
Patience and contentment in absence of BG isn't difficult. The only thing that's difficult is my sometimes lack of self-trust. What if my instincts are/were wrong? Is he not as keen as previously deduced or maybe self-sabotaging, risk-taking or rather confident in himself that I will be here upon his return? I might be in Antarctica!
The main thing I'm trying to focus on is that he's not here in the present, so although thoughts of him bring a smile to my face, I'm truly trying not to indulge in anything more than that.
Ah bedtime, you beckon. Warm, cosy and horizontal. Next week I'm heading off for a winter sea-change to a beach southwest of Melbourne. Would be interested to try an ocean dip but it's probably unrealistic.
