There's been no word on my car. I've been stalking it on the police website, which is quite handy. Also suggests that a lot of cars are stolen in the city... It is really inconvenient not having a car. Public trans where I live is basically non-existent and nothing a walkable distance. But underneath the inconvenience is the violation. I feel violated that someone took my car and all of my possessions in it. I care more about the possessions than the car, honestly. I can get another car, but what about my favorite bag? Every time that I think of something in the car, I feel that a bit of that shock that I felt when I saw that the car was gone.

I've also recently suffered what Jane Austen would call a romantic disappointment. It wasn't a grand affair or anything, but it was something that had ignited a spark of joy in my soul. And now that's gone, too. I think that is what I will miss the most: that frisson of pleasure every time that I saw him, the little flirty high of our exchanges, the taste of his kisses.

One of my exes said that cynicism is the condom of the romantic's soul. I may have to retreat into that hard little shell that I wore for so many years for a little while. It's hard to see any overarching purpose to the events of this week, but perhaps this is a lesson in what I don't need in life, what I can do without.


SarahA said...

This post is so sad. It tugs a little at me also because of the poetic-ness of it. It gives me a little glimpse of your poetic soul.

KellyS said...

I think this calls for a free massage. Although, really, you've earned it.

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