In a Pickle...

I’ve really gotten myself into a pickle.

I don’t know how it happened, but, everything seems to be all mushy and bland.

And now I’ve gone and spent beyond my means,

which turns the mushy and bland into panic and overwhelmed.

My job is uninspiring.

I’m packing a bit of ‘winter pudge.’

And, I feel ashamed admitting this but, sometimes I feel a little lonely.

The shame speaks from this little corner in my heart that says,

“Quit being so hard on yourself. You’re a girl with gusto just living your life!

You don’t need a partner in crime to make you feel happy or fulfilled. “

But… every night before I go to bed I can’t help but wonder:

Where are you? Are you thinking of me too, wondering when we’ll meet?

image

And I think because my job has been less than rewarding,

I’ve been a little shop-happy.

And maybe a little snack-happy too.

And now I feel this enormous surge of anxiety and failure.

What the heck do I have to show for the pennies I’ve purged?

Will I be forced to live in squalor; eating toast off the floor?

How did I manage to relocate from one of the most expensive cities to...

one of the most expensive cities?

Oh why, oh why can’t we pay for things in handshakes and high fives?

Humph.

I’m heading out of the city this weekend with some friends.

Hopefully, a little snow and the great outdoors will lift my spirits.

And, perhaps I can collect some acorns and pine needles

and introduce them as a new form of currency.

Until then…

xo