patience

I’ve been far too attached to my email lately, checking it every hour, waiting for news, reports, answers, without anything specific in mind.  It’s like a mindless, free-floating watch, waiting for a tap on the shoulder to push me forward.  Not that I can’t do something: try for a grant; apply for a job.  Deadlines loom, but the largest one is my anticipated move to my new home.

I imagine what the new place looks like; I am renting it sight unseen.  I troll the real estate ads for a glimpse of a place similar to the one that will be mine, look at the layouts, wonder if I’ll have a place to garden. Could I plant a topiary in a container in the spring?  I should use my daydreams more wisely, that is, if that were not an oxymoronic thought in itself.  I might dream of writing surfaces, fresh paper, new pens.  This is what the fall has always meant to me.  Instead I peruse on-line catalogs, looking for a decadent  armchair at a fraction of the going price.  I make lists of things to bring, things to buy.  I decide I will live an organic, sustainable life without too many things.  I wonder if I could get an armchair with down-filled cushions.  I decide to become vegan.  I decide to remain vegetarian.  I resolve to practice more yoga.  I wonder what I will plant in the spring.