It seems we skipped right over Autumn and the grey cold skies of Winter have descended.
Along with that, a sense of foreboding.
I have had this feeling before, the feeling of ‘hey, things don’t seem to be so bad right now… good things are happening! Something doesn’t feel right’
And then the universe, who has been hiding behind the drapes giggling like a school girl waiting for the rays of hope reveals itself and defecates on my head.
Some would say that makes me a pessimist.
I would say that it makes me a fucking realist.
Never let down your guard.
Don’t show your hand.
So while I wait, with my hands defensively above my head,
The sky turns a mottled shade of grey.
And I do, what I do every time I feel this way
I make lists and plans and clean and scrub
I create and declutter and move around furniture
Both hand and mind
Ignoring my personal sense of doom
Heralded by the clouds
and the pounding of my heart.