The Zen of Death Cleaning | Part 2
I stayed in the house by myself. I don’t mind being by myself for long periods of time. I didn’t wear makeup or a bra, since no one would see me. I could have walked outside, but there’s nowhere to walk to, no Walgreens or Starbucks or friendly neighborhood bar with local bands playing or an open mic night. I’m eating through the frozen food in the freezer, Stouffer’s, Trader Joe’s, etc. and drinking the booze, and thank goodness there’s some good booze.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?