Well, obviously, that's not true. I'm typing actual words here! But really? I am engrossed in television and wine drinking and digesting a nice lovely Wednesday meal, and thinking about a tough day of work ahead, juggling all the things I want to get done, and what the heck I can squeeze into my weekend. I am also happy to have had a house full of people this morning at 7am. Yup. I was making coffee, and THEY were studying the mistakes they made on my granite kitchen counter, planning to fix them at no cost to me. Great. Let's make it happen so that I can GET ON with the rest of the kitchen already!
But I am not feeling poetic. I am not feeling philosophical. I am not feeling unique, or possessing of anything all that terribly scintillating to say. I am feeling, as I have said before, in a state of limbo, repetition, process.
I am in process.
Hey.
I like that.
I actually had something to say.
I am a woman currently in process.
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