I wrote this post about the new year. It was awesome. Okay it wasn't, but it was epic. As in EPIC, as in long and involved and all that stuff and I knew when I was writing it that it wasn't going to work as a post because, beyond the fact that it was LONG and EPIC, it was way too personal.
Which, I know, is totally silly because this is a blog and blogs are all about smearing the personal all over the internets because those who blog are just that self-involved, yo. But even for me it was way too personal. So I wrote it and I saved it as 'draft' and I told myself that someday I might publish it even while I knew I probably wouldn't because by the time it reached the 'not too personal anymore' stage it would also be 'not remotely interesting'.
Sadly this left me without a post for new years.
So you're going to get the Cliff Notes version which is:
1) last year was kind of mad. I mean crazy mad. I mean LOADS of things happening both good and bad and how do you sum that up?? kind of mad.
2) Some of that madness left me with a very distinct lack of confidence of myself when it comes to personal relationships - as in, I suck, worlds without end, amen.
3) So probably a Garbo-esque existence is a good thing.
So a week or so ago I was off to do errands which, given where I live, have enormous benefits. I mean, it's rather nice to know that if you need to nip out for some laundry soap, a kitchen sponge and some carrots you can do so by walking on the old city walls. It adds a bit of... je ne sais quoi to things.
As I walked I was listening for the umpteenth time to the only playlist I had then bothered to make (ever) and pondering the value of living alone and removed from people, at least for a while. I had made friends here, but they were talk-to friends, not heart-friends if you see the difference. And that was okay, because lonely is good when you have rather a lot to sort out. And as I was thinking this I looked ahead on the wall and saw this:
A cat, a vertiable Kipling's cat*, a cat who walks by himself. And I grinned at him because, hey, you and me cat, we walk by our wild lone and we wave our wild tails. And it was all beautifully timed and meaningful right up to the point where the cat noticed me and immediately bounded over and began rubbing himself affectionately and enthusiastically all over my jeans.
Cats. They just don't get poetic metaphor.
*The cat that walked by himself
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