I could illustrate with the squalor the house is in now. In fact, after I post a couple of blogs, I plan to go around the house and take pictures of the bags I've left on the floor with the contents still in them--the one I took to the Social Security office and the one I took to visit David. The piles of newspapers, notebooks, and binders--all proof that I never learned in kindergarten to put away one thing before beginning another. I use my clean-up time to create another mess.
I seek what makes me happy, what feeds my soul, to put it in nauseating terms.
Reading, writing, talking feed my soul, but keeping my house the way a sane person would keep it apparently does not feed my soul, and my soul is extremely well-nourished.
It's not just the squalor that indicates that my interest lies elsewhere; it's the lack of preparation for the month-long trip I'm about to take.
Instead of getting ready to leave home and arrive somewhere else, I'm celebrating all the things I love about being home.
When will I pack? When will I figure out how to attach my walking poles to my back pack and where to carry my water bottle? Not until after I've read the New Yorker article Jana recommended, "Love in Translation: Would I be a different person in French?" and the French translation of Jennifer Yniguez's article, "Oprah Winfrey: le challenge végétalien."
Now, instead of getting dress or cleaning up, I need to blog on the subject of the insights travel offers: How will I most annoy people: With my Spanish and French or with My Vegan Diet?
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