Languishing…

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That’s what Charlotte did in her last days in the web.  That’s what I have been doing the last two days in my tiny house on my red chaise lounge.

I have had a fierce cold.  The kind with the croupy kind of barking cough that leaves you sore after a fitful spell.  So I gave myself permission to languish.  I drank gallons of hot tea, wrapped up in my microwavable lavender throw, with my heaviest afghans-made-by-Grandma draped over my legs.  I dressed in my coziest wool socks and sweats.   I lit candles.   I gave myself a Downton Abbey marathon, watching hours of recorded episodes.  I knitted.  I cuddled with my little Hattie.   I ate hot homemade soup.  Outside the cold rain poured down, nearly 3 inches in two days.

I was told I didn’t know how to relax.  I am sure I didn’t because I was on guard constantly for fear of saying something that would be taken offense to, and so I spent years, decades really, ever at the ready.  Yes, I am sure I didn’t “know” how to relax.

Well, I recovered the knowledge the last two days.  I, indeed, can relax.  I did.  It was heavenly.

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