Restless Sunday

Restless today. Very restless. Queenie doesn’t know why, but she’s pacing around the house like the polar bear that used to live in Dublin Zoo. She hopes she isn’t doing the head-shaking thing that poor creature used to do as well.

So anyways, she’s put on Bach’s The Art of the Fugue in an attempt to calm down. She probably should just stop drinking coffee and go back to bed, as she is too tired to actually put her boots on and go out. But too restless to get up to any good today.

And unplug the phone. She makes far too many phone calls when she’s restless.

Queenie had a strange dream last night. In it, I cut my own hair into a jagged pageboy and then got very aggressive with all the people I met who remarked on it. I wonder what that means? Anyway the dream was very tumultuous and dark and I was very upset when I eventually pulled myself out of it and opened my eyes.

But I suppose it’s all part of the mid-winter experience. It came to her suddenly the other day that November is over. Queenie always feels that she can manage the winter better once November is behind her for another year. It’s such a dreary, dark, boring, miserable month. And gets her all up in a heap emotionally. Until she’s convinced she’s crazy. And then December second or third the mood lifts and she remembers, ah, November.

Soon it will be the winter solstice and the days will start getting longer again. So hang in there everyone. It’ll be better soon.

Queenie’s going to go pace for a while again. This writing is not working. And the Bach is irritating her.