Garage sale

So, all this thinking can, essentially, spiral down into teen-angst-like self-flagellation (I have never claimed to be more than a 9-year old boy internally.) I swing through emotions like a toddler - from being fine, to being numb, to not being able to breathe from such missing. But, today, I am going to list some of the things I am thinking, rather than whinge (or try to).

When I read Eat, Pray, Love a couple of years ago, one of my first thoughts was that Elizabeth Gilbert got it wrong when she wrote: "I am the planet’s most affectionate life-form (something like a cross between a golden retriever and a barnacle).” What she should've written (or would've, if she knew me, and was writing a book about me, as opposed to about her) is: "Shiny is the planet’s most affectionate life-form (something like a cross between a golden retriever and a barnacle).” It's the barnacle bit, though, that I can imagine can be quite stifling for whoever I am suckered onto. Just something I need to work on.

Other things I need to do: Buy a Lazy Boy, to spend more time in my lounge. And wood, so that the time spent there can be beside a crackling fire. Cook more in my kitchen. Sell my car. And my extra bed that's been sitting in the garage, largely, for months. And that wierd electrical exercise, shock-thing, that's been sitting in the cupboard for, well, years (damn you TV infomercials.) And the kite-surfing kite of a friend who's been overseas for two years. Basically, I should have a garage sale. Or a swip-swop garage sale...

Anybody know somebody who wants to swap a kite-boarding kite, electric shock exercise thing, old double bed and a car, for a Lazy Boy and some wood?