I'm trying desperately to work through some personal stuff by writing. Deeply, intensely, profoundly personal stuff. The kind of stuff where you think about it all the time. You sit in traffic staring at the red, no wait now it's green light, and try to turn the stuff over in your head to make it make sense. You fold laundry and do dishes, paying no mind to the task at hand. You find yourself finished before you even really realize you'd begun. You read but when you've read the same paragraph a dozen times, you sigh loudly and put the book away. You wander through your darkened apartment after all the kids are in bed and you hold tea cups in your hands and you stare out the window until you don't even know how long you've been standing there but your face is suddenly pressed to the glass of your back patio door. Sometimes you stand there and stare so long the first cracks of dawn start to appear and you realize you've been standing there for, literally, hours, trying to figure out what you mean , what you think, what you know or need to know about all this stuff.
That's when you realize you've spent hours thinking about this stuff and you don't even have a name for it.
It's been a long weekend, y'all. Anyone else want some tea?