palace of winds

There was a last gasp of warmth this afternoon, and I strolled coatless from my car to Ulta, basking in the warm, waning sunlight. As much as one can bask in three-inch stilettoes. They’re curiously comfortable, especially for how cute and Barbie-shoe-ish they are. They make me feel grown-up and a little corporate, which is nice some days. For the other days I have black flats that feel like slippers and my chunky librarian glasses.

I keep wavering between bursts of love for MN and moments of near tears where I wonder what in good hell I’m doing in a place that will be utterly bone-deep frozen in another month or two. Perhaps it’s because I’m ovulating. This whole sudden house-desire is making me all twitchy and uncertain, though. I want deeply to be able to afford land, and then a little home for it. But that begs the question, of course, of where I will buy this land. Of if I will stay here, or if I should look afield, and if so where? And that leads me back around to my job, where I have spent the last week educating myself about HSAs and high-deductible health plans vs. the standard sort we currently have. I am pouring so much into this health plan switch and pinning down dental and from there a 401k has been promised and a bonus arrangement, and there is a raise on the horizon, and I am building all of these slow and far-reaching structures and it is just strange. It is all just strange.

When I do buy land I want it to be forever. Well. I want it to be a very very good long while, anyhow, because I plan to put everything I have into this eventual house. It will be bricked with all of my dreams and the thought of having to move away from it is abhorrent. I need to get the where right before anything else.

Mostly I’m just rambling. I didn’t actually log into mt with the idea that I’d say any of this at all. I actually wanted to log in to whine about missing Stephie. To be temper tantrumish about the intervening states. Though I find I’m not in a tantrum mood. I’m in sort of a Daisy Buchanan mood, in that first scene where she’s lounging on the chaise and just too overcome to rise. Mmm, I haven’t read that since eleventh grade; I really must, now.

Bad thought, that. I’ve sworn I’d finish The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe before anything else, and all sorts of house books have already snuck past it. I shan’t let any other fiction. In fact, I’m going to go get started on it immediately.