I looked at my devotional. “August 31st” it said. Even though it feels like September, and I only have to wait another day I’m very tired of August. I’m tired of the heat, the drought, and all the damn cats. I’m tired of my bad attitude and the negativity in the house. I’m tired of my slow motion search for an income, for good vocation, for a gig I might like.
I’ve been supporting myself by selling stuff, and my last sale, was a long time and too little ago. It means no bus to downtown or to see friends. It means I’m overdue on important bills and I can’t do things I need to do. My efforts at attractive people down my street have been poor, so I consigned all my goods to a friend whose mother and grandmother have garage sales. The sales are bigger and the location is far better.
This wasn’t a bad idea, but I’m a control freak about things like this. The small amount of money I’ve reviewed seems disproportional to the amount I’m told has sold. Sales seem to be held at a whim, not timely and regular. It’s my own fault, the whole assumptions thing. I need small sums of money in a timely fashion so my range of activity can increase. August has been a month of more than average poverty.
It’s all a matter of patience. The present is a powerful place. I’ve been alone most of the week, which has been good, gotten me back on track. I prefer being alone, with no transferences and projections of others to sully my day. I love cloudy days like this, the promise of rain, good food in the kitchen, and optimistic phone calls.