The weather has shifted, storming from miserably hot and humid to a more moderate, breezy state in the past couple of days. I have taken to walking outside, forsaking the tunnels that connect the campus, and have found it's much easier to smile at those who pass by.
I returned home from another day at the office - this week has been a bit of a grind, truth be told - and wrinkled my nose over the heat of my house. It was a reasonable 76 degrees on the thermostat, but I missed my normal 72. I decided to watch television in the basement before coming upstairs to bed and, upon climbing the stairs, turned on the air conditioning unit my parents brought me this weekend.
They announced their plans to visit as they left their house, leaving me pleasantly surprised that I'd have house guests last weekend. Their primary mission was to deliver said cooling device - they'd kept it when Brother had no more use for it and claimed it was perfect to keep my bedroom at my favored Arctic temperatures without having to spend a fortune cooling the remainder of the house. Away it blows in my corner, venting neatly out the window through a system Dad designed.
I also have neatly trimmed bushes along my front walk and sparkling clean bathrooms. We talked and ate and watched DVDs of The Big Bang Theory and laughed. It was simple and lovely.
The work week has been riddled with arguments, leaving me tired and shaky during some moments, but I'm blessed with colleagues who are quick to agree when I suggest going out for a meal or drink so I can decompress. So far this week, I've whined over cheesecake with Sibling, ate guacamole with Sibling while looking out over a lake and joined my entire team for happy hour when we finished a visit early.
I'm struggling with guilt over something for which I should be ashamed. I'm thinking through a plan that's as odd as it is forbidden. I find myself hesitant to write about either, and realize I've come to think of this as a moderately unfriendly space. The knowledge that some readers actively dislike and disapprove of me is fine on some level. Yet I'm unwilling to be as open as I once was in the face of what could be harsh judgment. Which irritates and saddens me before I remember I have other facets of my life that leave me feeling very lucky overall.
So I've watched people write final posts with the thought that I should probably go next. I've considered other blog names and rejected the idea of starting over. There's a certain continuity that appeals to me and this space - these words - do - for better or worse - represent who I am and what I've done in some sense. Password-protecting doesn't appeal to me, nor does publishing abbreviated feeds (though both are obviously wise). I am, quite simply, unhappy with the situation but unwilling to change it, which neatly removes any real ability to whine about it.
So I'm likely to remain mostly boring - redacting anything interesting or revealing but incapable of giving it up completely as I remember days where I couldn't sleep unless I'd posted something on my blog. These days, I rely more on the air conditioner next to my bed and being exhausted from work, but I'm resting pretty well.