Ponders & Woolgathers for 1.4.2021

It’s so easy to write or type 2021.  There’s no pause. There’s no thinking about it.

I saved this photo on FB & it’s no longer available.  If someone knows who to credit, please let me know.  I LOVE this car!

I’m toying with the idea of having January 20th as my New Year. I know that things won’t be instantaneously fixed on that day with a wave of a magic wand.  It feels more like an official period to 2020.

I was curious as to how many hours each day I have.  There are 4 days that have 5 hours dedicated to The Land of Lunch.  That includes eating, dressing, going out the door, working & back home again.  The alarm goes off at 4:15 AM & I’m in bed by 8:30 PM.  That’s 16 hours & 15 minutes a day with averaging about 7 3/4 hours of snooze time.  So, on the 4 days that I work, I have 11 hours & 15 minutes of time.  The other three days, if I keep to that schedule, I have the full 16 hours & 15 minutes.  This is giving me some serious thought to exactly how I’ve been spending that time & what needs changing.

It’s interesting to note that there is a sniff of resistance to the changes & tweaks I want to make in my life.  The portion of me that wants things to stay the same & safe (we shall dub her Aunt Smallness (Aunt pronounced the right way & it isn’t “ant”).  She’s stamping her foot & giving me the glare.

I didn’t tell you, but on New Year’s day, I was all sorts of moody.  I was feeling all the feels.  I cried. I got angry.  I was happy.  It was a helluva rollercoaster.  I figure it was one of two things.  The ovaries were speaking to me (I had a hysterectomy back in ’08.  Everything was removed except the ovaries) OR it was processing the end of a royally f’d-up year finally hitting home.  Might have been a stew of both.

I’m slowly accepting the fact that to Mocha (Daemoness of the Polka Pants), I’m her servant, nothing more. She will walk right over me to The Hubs, sit on his chest & give his beard a good washing while purring her fool head off.  I’m merely a tool to get what she wants.  Sigh.  That’s what I get for having a soft spot for Tortie cats.

While at Tractor Supply, I browsed a few homesteading books & magazines.  It’s a lot of work, no doubt.  I romanticize the reality of it, but still, it stirs a longing.

I’ll leave with this picture.  Fur is fascinating stuffs, the colors, the blending, the softness.  Dandelion Cats graciously allowed me to take this picture.

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