Highly Sensitive peeps at a retreat near Joshua Tree, so all the responsibilities of the household and the joys of being solo are mine for a week. Usually when one of us gone, the other takes the opportunity to put things to right around here, reveling in the pleasures of being allowed to pursue our own approach to tidying and cleaning. Unfortunately, this time it has gotten VERY chilly here again, and the house is icy. "Turn the heat on," you say? Well I would but for the fact that the furnace isn't working at the moment due to a snarl of reasons. I have a warm bedroom, bathroom, and office, so I shuttle between those rooms to maintain feeling in my hands and feet. "But what does the house being cold have to do with putting things to right around there?" you ask. It's a very simple equation. Me + cold = negative activity. So NOTHING is being put to rights around here. In fact, my bedroom, serving as it currently does as living and dining rooms, is by extension the place I watch a little tv whilst making art. SO my bedroom is filled with a tv and dvd player, a stack of dvds, books I'm either reading, hope to soon be reading, or use in conjunction with my art, AND a pile of art supplies that seems to grow exponentially rather like the virus in The Andromeda Strain. Not to mention the three cats who are every inch the comfort and warmth junkies that I am...they're sprawled across the bed. Such a mess surrounds me that my mind can't find a place to rest except when I'm down inside my virtual, computer world. *sigh* So as I'd LIKE to get out into my house and clean at it but for the chill in my joints and bones that HURTS, so I (over)use my personal spaces, and end up feeling utterly overwhelmed by the mess.
As I sit in THIS warm room and type, my hands have begun to feel like something other than icy lumps on the end of my arms, and my dinosaur brain tells me to just get up and go work on the house and the mess. My 21st Century brain, though, with its higher functions, knows how much colder it is JUST outside my office/bedroom/bathroom door. Still, I MUST get some work accomplished before Peter's return next Monday or I'll just be crushed by disappointment with myself. Peter's a sweetheart and won't say a word, of course, but having a cleaner space to return to than we left has sort of become a badge of honor for the one at home.
Meanwhile, I have art projects galore in process. I'm currently doing research (including watching some of the aforementioned dvds) on a Marie Antoinette piece for friend Malin in Sweden, I've begun allowing some ideas to accumulate for a "Nature Spirit" request from my bosom friend Ang, the little pile of jewelry and the three fleece vests for Pen still sit there, unfinished, and of course there's the NW landscape painting I promised Betty. Not to mention all the other work that's crowding to be released. It feels as though I have this huge seething crowd of beings - each representing an idea or project - in my head, and they're pushing and shoving one another to get to the front of the line. They're a noisy lot, too! Sheesh...
Okay, I'm thoroughly warm now and my dinosaur brain has convinced higher functions that the house isn't as cold as I remember it being, so I'm off on another attempt at taking a machete to the jungle that is my house.