maybe there is a santa

so, i gave myself the emotional equivalent of a pbj on wonderbread. yes, it was indulgent and selfish that i hid from the world for a day, but all that slowed was my breathing. outside everything clipped along. it's been the strangest sensation of being on a hurtling train at the same time as treading water. everything that has happened has been so far out of my control, all i could do was worry and feel trapped. uncertain. transient. inadequate. defeated.

the call finally came and my shark has won. the waters around him are clean as a whistle and it's once again safe for me to go swimming. it will be over in days, which after nearly 14 months will be but a blink. i finally feel like this place is mine, and will stay that way. after 12 months here, i'll at last unfinish packing and paint. no snow-shovelling or grass-mowing in my future.

i've got an in-box full of suitors (most not worth a second thought, for sure) but it still makes me feel better. too much time in that neighborhood made me forget how many straight men are actually out in the rest of the world. my nights and weekends are free for now, so why not spend them with someone? or some-two or-three ;)

better. getting better...