Rediscovering fluff

This week, after some particularly character-building days, I had a realization.

I need something... else.

Not what I expected to realize, for sure.

I have been down. Feeling daunted. I certainly have no end of "things". Home renovations, personal quests, professional projects, social endeavours, plans for better health, financial improvements, relationship enhancement, meetings and appointments, calls and errands. Unread emails remain in my inbox, not for lack of trying to get through them. One exciting initiative launches, only to lead onto another in the wings with imminent deadlines.

So why something else?
I have forgotten my nothing-time. My losing-myself-moments. My non-thinking thoughts. I need frivolity. Lack of usefulness. Fluff. Fun.

I started this morning with french press full of coffee and two half-finished magazines. I day-dreamed about giving up on having the perfect colour and just painting it all white. To hell with creativity. How about "done" ? I made final decisions on the important selection of what to make for dinner. I found my public library card.

And I went to the library.

I could have chosen Mordechai Richler. Nathaniel Hawthorne. Jane Austen was there in the shelves. As was an award-winning documentary. I browsed longingly at it all, wondering where to start.

What did I get? Two chick-lit novels and a chick flick.

It felt delicious. It was even better when I watched the movie tonight in a silent house. Aware that I was not learning or furthering myself or my dreams whatsoever.

Goddess bless the library. I can't wait to crack open that book tomorrow morning with a pot of tea.