Sitting here, balanced, as the wind rises outside.

Poised perfectly between exhaustion and...something else. Discussing the relative merits of Britney Spears. (someone suggested hollowing her out and making a bong out of her. Hey.) Just finished with yet another Protoss mission. (woo, kicking zerg butt!) Watching a spider build a web in the window as the wind picks up outside.

I ought to go to bed. But. I currently feel pretty good, better than i have in a few days. No coughing and I can breathe through my nose. I did a whole bunch of work today, getting ready to be gone for the week, and I feel all sparkly and productive. (If slightly frustrated at this one thing that will just...not...go!)

But so. I feel oddly balanced, as if I have returned to a pivot point, as if my cold were some penance i had to pay for something. Maybe for some guilt i didn't feel.

Or maybe it was just a virus caught at the end of the summer, like i do every year. My life always seems to be in transistion about now--I move from house to house, from coupledom to singledom or vice versa, from depression to hypomania and back again.

I'll shake the dust from my boots, put on some good music, and go rambling for a while. Then I'll come back and see where I am with her eyes, see what's good and what's not and what I need to do next.

I am sitting, balanced, as the wind rises outside and i remember the single rumble of thunder off in the distance last night, the way the patterns crabrass grows in are beautiful even if the thought of pulling the weeds are not, about opening my front door to find daisy petals strewn across the doormat.

About our fall towards the equinox and into darkness.

About cherishing the light that is left and welcoming autumn in.

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