. This coffee is sofa king good. I have been loving myself better by preparing it the night before so all I have to do before I feed Lola is push a button. And it's ready once she is fed and the bed is made and I have wiped the sleep from my eyes.
. The patio door is open because she likes to survey her cat queendom in the mornings and it's very cold. I have an old soft grandma shawl wrapped around my shoulders and I have my fuzzy sherpa lined slippers on and both feel awkward as I am usually in a slip dress and bare feet. The heat is cranked but already it won't be enough to get me through this winter because this place was a meat locker all weekend and the tip of my nose and the tips of my fingers are cold. I could bring her in and shut the door but she is a nordic shield maiden of a cat and the cold doesn't bother her and she really loves her mornings on the deck.
. I hate being cold more than I hate anything in this world so all weekend I continued my frantic scroll of marketplace and saw a fireplace with the flame in the middle by tonight it will be living with me.
. I can taste the anxiety rising up and I try to swallow it with every sip of this delicious coffee.
. I feel like my skin doesn't fit but it will soon.
. I see disarray. Clutter everywhere. I am selling furniture and buying furniture and it's all a work in progress to not store the clutter but to dispose of it as I evolve.
. I hear nothing but trucks in the alley and the soft hum of traffic a street away and her wee snoring.
. The hot water and the bubbles from the LUSH bathbomb and that weird ache I get when I pile this entire mop of hair on top of my head and I feel the water soothe.
. I hear the conversation over and over in my mind that I don't want to have but have to have and i practice so it comes from love and everything will be ok.
From senses prompt in Isabel’s writing sanctuary.