RUN treadmill 7.25 mi + 0.75 walk, I dunno, about 12:00-12:30 pace? I managed to remember to bring the headband and towel for sweat, but then wore the wrong shoes - the old Cascadias! I love those shoes :)
Last night LA thought he noticed something wrong to indicate that something was wrong with the right side of my heart. Ugh the last thing I need is yet one more thing. Should I tell him that on Monday my chest had pain so I ran at a higher pace just to say "Fuck You" to the chest pain. I don't think he'd find it as funny as I did, and certainly not as satisfying. He doesn't seem excited about me running more, or I can't tell what he means. I'd hoped he join me for some running but it hasn't happened yet. He's busy, we both are, but how is it we're too busy to enjoy things like running and stained glass and painting and drawing and photography and guns and writing letters? How does it get to that point? That's one reason why I think my life doesn't feel normal yet. I keep thinking that sometime "soon" we'll have time; sometime "soon" we'll have money for extra things; sometime ''soon we'll be grown up and out of school and have normal lives. But it continues to elude me. Back in 2016-2018 I had it. But I lost it and still looking.
This also means a late start to work, but this was sorta planned because I have a late day planned. Dinner is in my bag, as I expect to be here that long. I spent my extra time this morning at the house doing my declutter (christmas tree ornaments I didn't like; that ancient lemon cake candle I don't use; and I see so much more that can get out). I packaged up the wooden table easel LA bought for me as a Christmas gift. He loves it - he was so excited by it and sent pictures when he opened it (he didn't even wrap it, he opened it and set it up before I was even home). I love the *idea* of it, but I don't draw at an angle like that. I draw flat. And I paint watercolors - they need a flat surface. Easels and supposed to be better for posture, but I don't spend enough time doing this to matter. Then the ledge hits my wrist, it's not made to be on a lap so it has to take up table space, I can't store it standing up because there's a drawer under it with stuff and the stuff will spill about, and then the drawer doesn't even open and close nicely. So....while I like the idea of having an art space, I don't like the actual thing. And when I can come up with so many reasons to NOT have something - it has to go. It's been sitting on the coffee table and every single time I walk in the room or through the front door I have a guilt/regret reaction that causes anxiety. So he needs to return it, and I can't tell if he's joking or not when he says he won't return it. Please return it. And the paint brushes too. I'll keep just one nice brush, but all this ridiculousness spent because I bought a $9.99 set of kids paints for my covidity week, it's just wrong. I can't focus on so much stuff.
Today at the gym I was thinking about selling the side-by-side hutch and trading it in for a storage space for art. But then I realized it's probably easier to just dedicate to putting my art stuff in it (I half do that already, so why only half?) and keep using the roll-top desk for drawing because as it turns out I like that space. A big drawing table would be fun - like in front of the southern study window or in the bigger north living room window. Maybe someday LA will retire his big white standing desk? But until then, I don't have time anyway.
Alongside the easel is the book he bought last May or June and he bought it because I'd mentioned some podcast interview that I don't even remember anymore, and I told him I wasn't interested in reading it, but he didn't return it, and now there it sits in front of me on the coffee table to guilt/shame me day after day that I haven't read it and he wasted money on it. But I kept it because I like the *idea* that maybe I'll sit and read it. But the reality - no, I don't expect I ever will. I barely even know what the book is about. And the cover has some guy's face with dark eyes and it's like the book is looking at me to mock me. Every day.
But one thing I could fix was the hydroponics plants things gift from mom and dad. More anxiety. Again - I love the *idea*, but only the idea. The idea that you can grow herbs and veggies in your basement and the herbs and veggies and milkweed for monarchs - all great and domestic and idealistic. But I haven't grown herbs in years, I don't like how they taste anymore, and we don't cook with them. I had to quit eating most of the veggies Jessica recommended. And I didn't enough Michigan monarchs last year to invest in that project. And I really don't need yet another thing to take care of, yet another thing to have, yet another thing to make space for, and yet another thing to spend money on to buy seeds and plants. So, just like the easel - I can't have it. I just can't. Happily mom is able to return it. She said she'd send a check so I could buy what I want - but I don't want to buy anything as I'm trying to RID of things. Then I'd just feel guilty that I took her money!
But - at least the hydroponics stuff is taken care of. Whew. Now for the easel and the brushes. And that book. All the books actually. My ExH bought most all them stupid books and and I didn't read them either, he just bought them because he didn't know what else to buy. So WHY do I still have them? Books are for libraries. Not my shelves.
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