idle hands clean

I need time, in one form or another; within that time there are many angles and ticks of the clock.  Whether mentally I need some extra time to think things through, or I just need that extra 8 minutes to make it to work on time...it seems I hardly ever have just idle time.  Tonight I ran for 40 minutes just to give myself some extra time to work though some mental stress.  Sadly (for my brain), my body had other intentions and I felt like I ran one of my better runs in a long time.  By the end of the run I was tired, needing the bathroom and desperately wanting to stretch my feet.  Other than that my thoughts were still jumbling around inside my head, not filing in any particular folder but flying free.

All the way home my mind was running as fast as my feet were earlier and I made the decision to just not think.  Everything happens for a reason and I was figuring since my body told me to run when I wanted to think, and all the way home my mind wouldn't settle on one thought long enough to let it come to fruition, I may as well just let it all go for the night. By the time I was home, I had given up my ambition to think anything further than how I was going to cook my fish (a spray of non-stick cooking spray and garlic).  Since my mind just wouldn't settle, once dinner was done and spelling words with sentences had been made (party like a rock star!) I settled in for the night of random cleaning.  I found my running is better than therapy shirt buried in the bottom of my pajama drawer?! I was able to hang up all the clean clothes and had a load in the dryer before Emma had rinsed the soap out of her hair.

I love my life, I love how I spend it when I've got just me time and tonight, the one thing I have realized is just how little time I have to myself and that although I have thoroughly enjoyed myself tonight with the mindless racing of my brain and the sheer happiness I felt as I hung up clothes and folded a shirt, one at a time, I do not feel complete without sharing that time with someone who understands me.  The me that is happy, the me that is sad, that someone who knows what my facial expressions mean as I am making them.  Tonight, I will fall asleep without the 'sweet dreams' as I give time for someone who didn't ask for it, but I could see it in the eyes.