First things first... Happy Birthday, darling girl!
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I'm at a mental crossroads.
I could continue with my withdrawal, and dwell on the fact that I'm not over there, all the while obsessively looking at my watch several times throughout the day just so I can add that precious five hours and say, "It's a few minutes after 6 in London", or "This time ten days ago I was…” And as tempting as that all sounds, it’s rather like poking at a sore tooth, isn’t it? I could even flavour the mix with a dash of "Woe is me, I've got to wear hearing aids that everyone will see", thereby making it all one sad and sticky looking stew.
Or I could gather that last bit of strength I've got left and look towards the future, the trip to Austin, the potential of being the managing director of English Company Canada, all the men who will one day fall in love with me, all the success I'm bound to have, all the dresses I'm meant to wear just to stand out in the crowd...
The former is killing me - the carbs and sugar I need to support the former is killing me. I feel like a walking pudding, thick and lumpy and full of fat. I've hit the requisite rock bottom, and am now feverishly drinking gallons of water so as to flush out the offending toxins.
The latter is still on the stove, not quite ready to be served. It's on a slow boil, combining all the flavours so that I won't have to add a little of this and add a little of that in order to get on with my day. But it's coming. It's definitely coming.
I'm still doing a lot sighing though, wandering through my days picking things up and putting them down... but frankly, that's become a bit boring, you know?
I've gone a bit barking, haven't I? All I did was go away for a few days. Not even a full week! But it was London, baby, London. There's just no easy cure for that particular city.
It's coming, though. If I had red hair, I'd break into song and belt out The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow...
Ooh! Red hair! Maybe that's what I need to get over the final hurdle!
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