I’m tired of worrying that a cup of tea might push me over the edge. I *love* tea and it’s not fair.

I’m tired of freaking out every time I deal with authority/legal/statutory bodies. Really, I have a terrible Kafka-esque paranoia that twists me up in knots.

I’m tired of searching and searching for somewhere to live, because –

I’m tired of boy racers, car alarms, hoodlums, traffic, and screaming kids

I’m tired of writing stuff that veers ever so close to what I meant to write, yet doesn’t quite ever cut to the heart of the matter.

I’m tired of my neurosis.

but also, I’d like to say what I’m heartened by –

I’m delighted by the conversation I had with a woman at the Buddhist temple.

I’m thrilled that the grass is growing back a lush green.

I’m happy that I am writing and enjoying it.

I am in love with the cornflower blue paint.

I am sold on Thai fishcakes with hot sweet dipping sauce.

I’m grateful for the few wonderful people that I am close to.

And also, lately, I’m excited by a sniff of a certain possibility in the air. Not quite change, but the promise of change. A glimmer, even. It’s enough for me!

PS – number 9? Oh god yes.

and also 14, 15, 18 and 19 (among others) from your list