So, the BA got finished. I welded my bike, I wrote my dissertation, I got my 2:1.
Spit out into society again my boyfriend's mum's loft acts like a neonatal incubator for my unreadiness to deal. Some job applications are sent out, applied for a residency too, the late phone bill paid with my returned deposit, so not entirely procrastinating, just not up to full speed yet. Lazing in bed, playing with the iPad more than my conscience allows.
Roughed it for a week, mostly at Buddhafield festival, full radio silence, cue present fright to deal with emails that came during. Lost my festival funds to circumstance, earned them back with palmistry, cue possible gig at Glastonbury next year to do more of the same. Sun burnt my knees and the intimacy of so many strangers burned my mind as I touched their skin and told them about their fortunes (It always spills back as sudden trust invites confessions).
Hitched from Buddhafield with a sign declaring "To the beach." and a picture of sunny skies and a whale. Got to a beach where I couldn't swim but was consoled by doting boyfriend and tropical birds in an unexpected garden. Busted my knees but still, stubbornly trekked through Cheddar caves.
Home just in time to paint the basement and plan the flooring. Laminate, how it fills me with equal amounts of terror and glee. I will make it pretty, I promise myself, and I decide to trust myself in that promise and do it despite my neurotic fears.
Lazing in my incubator now, dreaming of trees. The development continues, in leaps and bounds.