Letters

I started today as a Ms. Mopeaaay. I do not like myself when I mope. Grumpy can be tolerable; mopey makes me extra emotional which makes me irrational which oftentimes later makes me sad. I try to avoid or deflect mopey at all possible costs.  
So, I went into full steam.  I drug myself to a favorite local coffee shop and read Sadartha while drinking tasty expensive coffee. I came home and made a special egg sandwich, (olive and cheese, topped with ketchup... yum). Then I walked 34 blocks and across the Morrison Bridge to a new yoga studio for new type of yoga, yay! I crossed a different bridge (I'm a hopeless romantic; I love walking across bridges.), and stopped for some fresh local vegetables on the 2 mile walk home. 

Sure, all of those prana giving healthy choices helped a little, but as soon as I got home I fell back into morning mopester. I tried a new technique for the second half of the afternoon. This time I would embrace it and completely relish in my single-hood. I made a mental list of all reasons I am thankful for this space and time of my life. I've got it good. 

I made my healthy wild rice vegetable bake, blah blah blah, made coffee at 5:00 pm, whatever I don't even care!, turned my pandora to Regina Spektor and the powerhouse ladies, and pulled out the ole file folder box. 


Inside that box is a folder titled, "Love Letters". Shiiiiiiiiiiit, I did it. I pulled it, sat down in the middle of the carpet with my coffee and wild rice on one side and blinds open on the other. I just read through years of love letters. 

I stopped when I was interrupted by Beyoncé's Single Ladies playing in the background. Seriously, I'm not even joking a little. 

I find myself laughing at the impeccable timing of the universe.  I like letting things unfold. I like life. I like being a single lady right now. 

So now, I'm going to take this slightly caffeinated, well fed, single Elissa, and I'm going to go dancing, because I can.