Dance Party

The last couple of mornings, I’ve gotten up early to play loud music and have a dance party in my living room. I may not have the best moves, but what I lack in talent I certainly make up for with enthusiasm. That’s probably the best description of me so far. It’s nice feeling good enough to want to dance and the dancing fosters more of those endorphins and then next thing I know–posititive feedback loop. Wahoo!

Last week, several minor house issues came up. Three, actually. In one week. While all of them were/are manageable and not terribly expensive, it takes a mental toll. The buck stops with me when it comes to this home instead of balancing it with my person and navigating it together like we so often had. I had a pity party Saturday morning, crawling back into bed after one of the kitchen cabinet doors came off its hinge. I came off my hinge. But every time these things come up I figure out (often with help, counsel, and loving texts from my bonus mom) how to proceed and knock them back off the list.

Sunday, I got more work done in the backyard and it’s starting to look like my vision. That’s a good feeling too. But right now, the dancing is reminding me very much that I’m alive and that it’s okay to play and have fun, too. I finished up the party this morning, and then listened to this and this line really stuck out to me “But I’m falling right back in love with being alive…”