The Process

Steamy shower goodness.
Contented cat snores.
Soft flannel sheets.
Plush Elder gods glaring at me from their corner on the shelf.

Must be getting on towards bedtime in the Mare household.

I have nothing really of substance to write about. Just a general feeling of contentment and peace.
The cynic in me mutters something about it not lasting; the paranoid slice of me is trying to clasp my hands together to keep from writing those words, afraid that I would jinx myself. Why are so many of my personalities gloomy and/or bitchy? Something to ponder on in the deep watches of the night. I can watch the shadows cast by the trees outside my windows and think about the roads I took and didn’t take that brought me here.
But for tonight…tonight I think I’ll lock those gloomy tarts into a box and simply revel in being clean and soft and comfy.