What Should I do about Whatever?

It is April in 1990 and I think: What will I do about following my budget? I spend too much money on myself and on others. I could put people who are unkind to me on my "Do Not Call List". No communication and no extravagances directed towards them.

I can not run away from the reality of my finances. Some people are so familiar to me it is difficult to leave them without resources, but I can not stay in denial about money forever. It has been necessary to defend myself, psychologically, in too many ways, too often, in too many relationships. Oh, for freedom from exploitation. Oh, for freedom from fear and guilt!

I am beginning to feel as delicate as a butterfly's wing. Extreme illness has required rest and comfort.I need to be emotionally self-sufficient, but there are factors contributing to the increasing anxiety and the need to connect to those whom I love.

While considering all of this, I arrive at my front door. To the left of the door is a little potting table on which lies some dirt, some flower pots and a few tools. My plants are in dire need of care and attention. I have been away. I pinch a few dead leaves from the plants. I desire to stop and do more pruning, but instead I turn the key in the lock and tug open the door to my apartment.

The interior of the apartment is in shadows, barely lit by an outside street light coming in the large front window. I am cold. I am fatigued. Tiredness kills at the wheel. I am glad and lucky that my long drive home is over. I prepare for a refreshing nap.