Relative Something

At the moment, I find myself feeling like a leaf, floating in the current of a wandering brook. My plans come and go, and the realities of life play out rather oblivious to my notions. I marvel over all of it.

Why do I receive such immense pleasure from smelling wood smoke?

Why does the smoke smell so good, yet cause me to recoil in agony when it gets in my nose and eyes at the camp fire?

If I am getting sunburned by an afternoon of exposure in March, how careful am I going to need to be when summer finally arrives?

It is interesting how pleasant the sense of calm is after a certain trio of young ones departs from our home at the end of their visit, yet how vacant our place suddenly seems, causing us to miss them as soon as they are gone, even as we delight in the peace and quiet.

We have intended to have work start on the next step of our project toward getting paddock fencing in place so we could finally take steps to bring on horses, yet, week after week, work has been postponed due to weather.

I received a call from our contractor yesterday, informing me of the latest plan to start today. Unfortunately, special circumstance is requiring me to be in the cities for work on the weekday I usually have off. He was okay with that, and decided to move the start back another day to see if warm weather might aid in reducing the amount of snow that still remains to be dealt with.

The workload at the day-job has rather quickly gone from famine, to feast. For some unknown reason, we just experienced the unprecedented situation of receiving an order from a customer on a Sunday, of all things. I have no idea what that implies.

Our internet connection has been extremely unreliable of late. I don’t understand its behavior of appearing to be connected, yet failing to load pages, then also frequently dropping connections as fast as we reset them.

We have been receiving messages from our service provider, alerting us when we approach our plan limit, except for the month-before-last, when we blew past the allowance without receiving a single notice. Which came first? We blew past so fast, there wasn’t time to warn us, or, they didn’t warn us of the fact we were approaching the limit, so we continued to use it, oblivious?

I haven’t been playing my string instruments very often since we moved, and recently set a goal of re-establishing calluses on the tips of my fingers. I am always fascinated by how much muscle memory my fingers demonstrate, even as I struggle to push them past the tenderness of pressing against the thin steel strings.

I wonder why this phase of the process doesn’t cause blisters. I seem to get blisters on the rest of my hand when I put them to work just as hard, raking or shoveling.

I often feel that my written sentences about my wondering something should end with a question mark. Should it? Basically, I am just writing a statement about the fact that I wonder something.

It’s a good thing I am comfortable accepting mysteries that exist in the world.