Leave the familiar for awhile.
Change rooms in your mind for a day.
Hafiz
... or a year.
Langourous refers to a certain kind of mood everyone gets in sometimes—when you'd rather lie around thinking than doing work or having fun. When you're languorous, you're tired and maybe a little depressed.
Vocab.com
Languor: 1. weakness or weariness of body and mind, 2. listless indolence or inertia.
Merriam Webster
To hear the ex tell it, my year in the 808 has been an absolute boondoggle.
A nonstop bonbons-with-people-waving-fans-on-me fest.
Not to burst his narrative but it has, to the contrary, been a paradise paradox. My temporary soft-air, mountain, ocean world was spun out of its orbit, rendered adrift, when my two youngest teens opted to go back to NorCal in December. Needing a handle, as it were, I wound down the LLC I had started last fall with a friend (which didn't pan out for myriad reasons) in favor of a full-time job outside the home* for the first time since 2001, the last time I had to be at a desk by 8a, fully awake, interacting, adding value (whatever that means). I was pregnant with my second of three daughters then. It's easier now because ... no diapers. I wake up at 6a, adhere strictly to the morning routine, help women, work out at lunch, help more women, walk with purpose to to catch the 5:08p express bus, take in the arresting elements through the tinted glass at 50 mph with fellow commuters who, it turns out, I like to chat up when I'm not reading a book (a book!) because they are nice and pleasant. I collapse into bed by 9p, too tired to read, but not too tired to watch compelling television—hello, highlight of my week: Handmaid's Tale.
("Your job, the TV, the parade of out-of-town guests are all distractions which help you cope with not being with your teens,"
says my always-right therapist, matter-of-fact).
While it has decidedly not been the year of living languorously, it has been a year of
discovering and dwelling in new rooms of my mind ...
of non-attachment ...
of embracing the unexpected ... of letting go ... of longing and living, off-kilter.
And remembering that what goes around comes around, eventually.
*Fiction lede ...
She worked her ass off inside the home for 13 years while her husband globe-trotted. She worked ad hoc part-time jobs after their third was born but never took tennis lessons or worried out loud (much) about making her acupuncture appointments,
which made her privileged but not entirely insufferable.
Change rooms in your mind for a day.
Hafiz
... or a year.
Langourous refers to a certain kind of mood everyone gets in sometimes—when you'd rather lie around thinking than doing work or having fun. When you're languorous, you're tired and maybe a little depressed.
Vocab.com
Languor: 1. weakness or weariness of body and mind, 2. listless indolence or inertia.
Merriam Webster
To hear the ex tell it, my year in the 808 has been an absolute boondoggle.
A nonstop bonbons-with-people-waving-fans-on-me fest.
Not to burst his narrative but it has, to the contrary, been a paradise paradox. My temporary soft-air, mountain, ocean world was spun out of its orbit, rendered adrift, when my two youngest teens opted to go back to NorCal in December. Needing a handle, as it were, I wound down the LLC I had started last fall with a friend (which didn't pan out for myriad reasons) in favor of a full-time job outside the home* for the first time since 2001, the last time I had to be at a desk by 8a, fully awake, interacting, adding value (whatever that means). I was pregnant with my second of three daughters then. It's easier now because ... no diapers. I wake up at 6a, adhere strictly to the morning routine, help women, work out at lunch, help more women, walk with purpose to to catch the 5:08p express bus, take in the arresting elements through the tinted glass at 50 mph with fellow commuters who, it turns out, I like to chat up when I'm not reading a book (a book!) because they are nice and pleasant. I collapse into bed by 9p, too tired to read, but not too tired to watch compelling television—hello, highlight of my week: Handmaid's Tale.
("Your job, the TV, the parade of out-of-town guests are all distractions which help you cope with not being with your teens,"
says my always-right therapist, matter-of-fact).
While it has decidedly not been the year of living languorously, it has been a year of
discovering and dwelling in new rooms of my mind ...
of non-attachment ...
of embracing the unexpected ... of letting go ... of longing and living, off-kilter.
And remembering that what goes around comes around, eventually.
*Fiction lede ...
She worked her ass off inside the home for 13 years while her husband globe-trotted. She worked ad hoc part-time jobs after their third was born but never took tennis lessons or worried out loud (much) about making her acupuncture appointments,
which made her privileged but not entirely insufferable.
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