…and… so what would I want more of? Time, Space and Money? Time, Space and Sex? Time, Space and Love? Time, Space and Chocolate?

Or, how about all of the above?

Today I am aware that time has accelerated. I feel an urgency around me, as though I cannot go fast enough to keep up with it all. (Which, on the heels of yesterday’s post, that is sorta ironic.) It seems that it (time) is sliding away from me. And space? That is so at a premium these days. My petite guest room feels confining. And here at the office, I am being booted out of my space because Current Boss needs to sublease my half of the office for financial reasons. That means I will be moved over to a not-so-spacious space, crammed in a corner and much too close to his disasterous office of compressed chaos. Then, in the airy space where I am sitting right now, there will be a bitchy primadonna interior designer who thinks his shit doesn’t smell, along with his entire staff. (Apparently I am angry about this change.)

The additional personages will take up the entire half of our office space. Good for Boss Man who is rarely here. Uncomfortable for me as I will be here day in and day out having to deal with the prissy ass. Not only that, my healing space office which is on this same side as I currently sit, will be in the middle of all that. Boss Man says, “R has agreed to let you use that room your office is in,” with emphasis and snide intonation on the word “let.” Yes, he has so kindly agreed to let me use that space. However, I know him well enough to know that he is going to want to lord over my time there and I doubt, highly, that he will respect the need for quiet.

I feel the time rapidly approaching when I leave this place, all together. I am scared about that. I am more scared that I am not willingly doing anything to leave this place. I have a story that there is nothing out there that fits my needs. I feel scared to leave the miserable comfort here. I am angry that I am feeling the necessity to change day jobs and find a new healing space. I feel scared that I will have to pay for my new healing space. At this point, my income doesn’t allow for a lot of flex room. If I get a new day job, I have a story that I will lose either my time or money. If I add the expense of a new healing space on top of that, I may lose my head.

I am aware that this post is quite incongruent, whiny and jaggedy. Which, in and of itself is very appropriate as that is how I feel right now.

I want to go back to bed. Things seem so much better with my head under the blankies.

Ye-eah. Right.

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