On Time and Life and Stuff

So here I am again. No, not dead. A lot older, but thankfully not dead. This is a weird feeling...I've not written in so long, but today for the first time in so long, I felt the need to. It's an odd sort of blessing that feeling again. The need to run my fingers across the keys. I was re-reading some of my old stuff and in so doing 'goosing my stats'. I'll feel really good again until I realize that I AM, in fact, my biggest fan and then well...you know. Nothing like a little delusion. So these days, I'm NOT a lot of things anymore. I'm not a 'Cat Mom' anymore or at least, at present. I'm not single anymore. Make of that what you will. I will say though, that I'm not married either. I was thinking how life is often a matter of opposites, back when I was a Cat Mom and nursing Jamie through his diabetes, some days back then, I wished so much that I wasn't a 'Cat Mom', the days of endless shots, worry, no life, and no free time. Now I have my free time and less worries and I'd give just about anything to have my Jamie back. And my Gordy back, my crazy neurotic kidney issue cat. I miss my boys and the sense of feeling useful and needed and loved...there is that. No one makes you feel as loved as a cat who depends on you for everything. I miss being single. Not having to worry about what to do on the weekends. Who wants to do what? Who is going to be offended? Who's parents are going to be bent out of shape about the holidays? All of the myriad 'stuff' that comes with being coupled. I fell apart a little this weekend. After hosting Thanksgiving and cooking, serving and cleaning everything up, I woke up the next day with the kind of pain, stiffness and sore throat that generally accompanies the flu. Although I didn't have the flu, I felt just as wretched. I gave up, cancelled plans and spent the weekend binge-watching Poirot and wishing I was more...more everything. More brave, more competent, more creative, more content, maybe more heroic. Less tired. Less 50. Less overwhelmed. Sometimes I want to be the 11 year-old I was, manically dancing to Prince in my room, dreaming of a life where everything seemed possible and nothing impossible. Believing that I was strong, brave, capable and that I could in fact DO anything I dreamed. Yep. Nothing like a little delusion.