The weather is 30, not 80.
It’s been raining on and off for the past couple of days instead of a blue sky.
The rivers swell and I’m wearing pants, not shorts.  (Blue jeans, even if they’re out of style.)
I’m in a house of four others instead of just one.

I don’t have to do laundry anymore.  I don’t have to wash dishes.  I have my truck back.  Hopefully, the doors haven’t been frozen shut by the cold.

I get lots more hugs and smiles here.  The lack of presidents in my wallet is suddenly inconsequential.

There’s so much time now when there was just so little before.
The pressure is off and I feel the words starting to flow in my brain more.   There’s so much I want to type.  Heck, even my skin is softer after bathing in well water.  City water doesn’t suit me.

Threats of the Great Green New Deal matters little to the bare farm fields.  What’s more important are the fundamentals of growing.  Rather it is growing crops, children, or a community.

So, why was I awake every hour last night telling myself that I was hungry… when I obviously wasn’t.  And now I sit feeling pretty guilty about that – as it plays into my eating disorder – while I wait for my brother to awaken so we can get pizza.

/slams head on desk

–   I don’t want to start that again.
I don’t want to nourish my self-doubts and fears with food.  I think I lost weight.  Actually the last time the doctor officially weighed me, I was four pounds lighter.   You can’t imagine the thrill of emotion that filled my brain bringing back a positive self-giddiness feel was experienced multiple times during my anorexic years.

I need to stop overeating so I don’t get myself caught in a vicious circle again.  Not after I was doing so well.  But, when I haunt the house at three am, my cognitive skills tend to be non-existent and an emotional dullard takes the possession.   My recognition is hazy at best, except for the feelings of guilt.    That’s very sharp.

Ooohhh..  I think I hear my brother getting up.  All of that creaking has to mean something.  I guess I’ll have to cut this a little short.

Pizza time.. probably Mancinos.

Wednesday is my day.
Thursday is Amanda…  and I think she said we were visiting Panera.
Friday is my day, but I might just stay at home.
For Saturday, I’m back with my brother.

How easy the cycle just rolls back.
That’s not a bad thing.  They care enough about me to let me back.
I certainly can’t complain.

And Jason is all along again, save the cat.