It's been a gloomy week. I thought that once we had an answer about the presidential election, I'd feel buoyed. But instead I just feel worn out.
It's been gloomy in terms of our weather too. We've had a tropical storm in the metaphorical neighborhood all week, and it's been a mix of rain and clouds. Ordinarily I'd like this kind of weather, but when one has flooding worries, it's a different experience.
There's been gloomy news about the pandemic as cases increase, and we reach grim milestone after grim milestone.
On top of it all, we had our air conditioner quit working. Yes, in November, we had the AC running full time, so at least we knew when it conked out. And it wasn't a cheap fix, but we run the AC most of the year, so we went forward with the repair.
This morning, as I was fixing coffee, I thought back to our grad school years when we couldn't afford good coffee as our daily coffee. Those were pre-Starbucks days, when good coffee meant the flavored coffees that we got at The Gourmet Shoppe in Five Points in Columbia, SC, or at the Fresh Market. Now I have a sudden longing to go to the Fresh Market. I should resist that urge.
I've also spent the week feeling a fierce nostalgia for past times--some of them not very long ago, like our trip to Hilton Head in September or my quilting retreat in October. I'm fighting off depression each day because I had expected to be looking forward to a family Thanksgiving, but this year, we're taking the wiser course of action and not gathering in person.
In short, it's been a week where I've felt that progress that I've made has been slipping. I've been trying to treat myself gently, trying to convince myself that doing the tasks that need to be done each day is enough. These are the days when I feel like I should be congratulated for wearing shoes that match my outfit--or for wearing shoes that match.
It seems that the whole world may be feeling the same way. So I say, congratulations--you've got shoes that match, and that's good enough for days like these.