Go With the Flow
Ah, the miracle of a single cup of coffee and the bliss it brings! I've been struggling for a week or so with a niggling little sinus thing brought on by MOVING. It's the dust and the dusting and the swirly whorls of sparkling dust in the air, oh, and the dust bunnies hopping about under the sofa and the bed and the corners of every room, scurrying away from the dust mop. I've not slept well in a week or more, so last night I broke down and bowed at the temple of NyQuil for relief. And slept like the dead for a full eight hours straight, except for that episode at about 5AM when my pajama bottoms got twisted up and the fiasco of flipping, flopping and extrication that ensued. Then I was gone again. But as per the usual, I woke groggy and foggy and stumbled like a zombie into the kitchen to set up the percolator. Within 10 minutes of gulping down the first cuppa joe, I felt energized and ready to face the --- DUST! I have got my work cut out for me here. These are the dilemmas: the realtor and her caravans of prospective buyers are here almost daily, which means the house must be in some sort of order for them to do their walk-through; next is the packing -- it's 99% me and I haven't been feeling well, and the going's been slow, and I'm being given directives by other persons NOT doing the packing and there is resentment on my part, understandably, so I balk; next are the weekly trips to Fresno (4 hours both ways) to organize where to live temporarily, where to store our stuff, and work on getting that house, which, if it goes through, will be move-in ready some time in May; then there is the big moving sale wherein we get rid of many of our useless possessions, like redundant furnishings (we have FOUR sofas and more pots and pans than a restaurant); and last, but certainly not least, continue working on Djinn stuff to keep my business vital and alive. No biggie, right? Oh, yes, and there's the FREE incense class/workshop on November 5th, just days away, that I have to be in Fresno to work on.
So. Yeah.
I'm going in later this morning to fuss with May Zahr, whether he likes it or not. I think he's going to be a jar incense as he's being a total slug with the drying out. He's oozy and gooey and super, duper stinky (in a good way). I burned one of his toes on the electric burner Thursday morning, and when we got back from our Fresno trip Friday night, the house smelled of him. His toe, to be precise. It was amazing! My room especially smelled like orange blossom, and what a lovely scent to come home to after a stressful week of all the sh*t that's been going on.
The house that we're maneuvering to buy isn't even built yet. We were invited by the realtors to look at the space it is to occupy once it exists, and the space was, well, a pile of dirt. If all goes well, and they don't decide to put up another two-story right behind or slightly to the east of the house, then we'll have a lovely view of the Sierra Nevada mountains from the upstairs master. We opted for a smaller house to gain more back yard. My domain. The space of retreat and food and scent.
I know, I'm changing the plan here. What about the Thurifercorum, you ask? Well, it'll happen eventually. There are options. It may end up being a mobile thing, like a wee wagon that gets hitched to a car and is pulled around to different places, or a space in a shop -- right now, it isn't something I want to invest time and energy into. I want to travel, I want to bring my goods when I travel, like an old timey snake oil salesman with a cart and a slogan. Perhaps just the cart. And no snake oil. I definitely do not want to put my stuff in shops, or sell through distributors. Been there, done that, lost the farm. This moving event has shown me that putting down roots through the Thurifercorum will probably be a huge hassle anyway -- or it could be an anchor? So what if I'd been able to get that little shop down the street and really gotten it going? I'd be moving more stuff and looking for something in Fresno, and to be perfectly honest, I don't think the Thurifercorum as a physical shop would work in Fresno. If we had planned to stay here, we'd be scrambling for housing, and housing here is scarce, as demonstrated by the constant flow of folks looking at this house, and the fact that we did briefly look for housing when we got the news we had to move, and there wasn't any, or, rather, nothing that would have worked for us.
Go with the flow, is what I say, even if the flow is full of sewage.
So. Yeah.
I'm going in later this morning to fuss with May Zahr, whether he likes it or not. I think he's going to be a jar incense as he's being a total slug with the drying out. He's oozy and gooey and super, duper stinky (in a good way). I burned one of his toes on the electric burner Thursday morning, and when we got back from our Fresno trip Friday night, the house smelled of him. His toe, to be precise. It was amazing! My room especially smelled like orange blossom, and what a lovely scent to come home to after a stressful week of all the sh*t that's been going on.
The house that we're maneuvering to buy isn't even built yet. We were invited by the realtors to look at the space it is to occupy once it exists, and the space was, well, a pile of dirt. If all goes well, and they don't decide to put up another two-story right behind or slightly to the east of the house, then we'll have a lovely view of the Sierra Nevada mountains from the upstairs master. We opted for a smaller house to gain more back yard. My domain. The space of retreat and food and scent.
I know, I'm changing the plan here. What about the Thurifercorum, you ask? Well, it'll happen eventually. There are options. It may end up being a mobile thing, like a wee wagon that gets hitched to a car and is pulled around to different places, or a space in a shop -- right now, it isn't something I want to invest time and energy into. I want to travel, I want to bring my goods when I travel, like an old timey snake oil salesman with a cart and a slogan. Perhaps just the cart. And no snake oil. I definitely do not want to put my stuff in shops, or sell through distributors. Been there, done that, lost the farm. This moving event has shown me that putting down roots through the Thurifercorum will probably be a huge hassle anyway -- or it could be an anchor? So what if I'd been able to get that little shop down the street and really gotten it going? I'd be moving more stuff and looking for something in Fresno, and to be perfectly honest, I don't think the Thurifercorum as a physical shop would work in Fresno. If we had planned to stay here, we'd be scrambling for housing, and housing here is scarce, as demonstrated by the constant flow of folks looking at this house, and the fact that we did briefly look for housing when we got the news we had to move, and there wasn't any, or, rather, nothing that would have worked for us.
Go with the flow, is what I say, even if the flow is full of sewage.
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