Interruptions

I hate being interrupted. Let me repeat myself. I hate being interrupted. Sometimes, when I’m telling my dear husband a story, he interrupts me. He’s done this for five years now. Now, I glare at him and express my distaste. Sometimes he stops, apologizes,...

I’m intense, eh?

My friend came over for a few minutes. We got her mail by accident. It was junk, but we hadn’t visited in a while, so it was a good excuse to chat. She discussed the Ayuveda diet with me. I took the test. I’m a Pitta, according to the test. Pitta is my...

It’s Sunday

The problem is that I feel as if I squandored the day. We had such beautiful weather it was perfect for line drying, a walk, eating outside, anything. Not too hot, not too cold. In fact, I even wore a thin, long sleeved shirt — all day. Perfect weather. My accomplishment for the day, though, has been to tidy the kitchen counters. That’s it.

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