I took a rather slow day yesterday. It was snowing outside and although Tikka and I went out for our walks, where we romped and played and got thoroughly wet and snow covered, we basically stayed home, curled up in the sunroom, watching the snow while ensconced in a cashmere. Not such a bad life, is it?
I am apparently taking another slow day today as well. My sinuses are acting up, and my energy levels are low, low, low. I don't think I am sick though, hopefully just an accidental dietary indiscretion with its accompanying histaminic reaction. It is as good a day as any to feel under the weather, the sun is shining, the snow is melting, and all my appointments for today were cancelled.
My New York self would say that it wasn't that much snow, which it wasn't. But Tennessee is not upstate New York either, and I was perfectly happy to stay home. I read my assignment for tonight's class, which has now been cancelled, and took the unexpected gift of a big block of time as incentive to get back to work on cleaning out the closets and storage areas of the house. I'll continue to work on this today, and probably the rest of the week.
But I also spent time reading and doing needlework. More importantly, I've found inspiration time: time thinking and dreaming and sketching a little bit, time working on inspirations for sewing, for needlework, for my home, just general ideas. To say the least, it felt good. It has been a long time since that creative spark has fired, and although I think it is still mostly sputtering, it is wonderful to see that life is still present. I've never considered myself particularly creative, and certainly not artistic, but that drive to make things my own, to envision the world in a particular way and shape my external environment to echo my inner thoughts and visions has always been there. As I clear away the deadwood, it feels like things are falling into place.
