Each year, September seems to be a bad month for me. But I can't quite figure out why. Are they really so horrible, the things that happened this month? It was more aftermath of the summer, if I'm honest. But it's like walking under a ladder for thirty days at a time, it seems. Every little thing that happens is noticed. The damn washer that didn't spin my clothes and the dryer only making them warm and slightly less wet. The broken promise from J's job. The fact that I'm still waiting for a court date. The job I didn't get. The cold I did get. Tripping up the stairs. Stress regarding money. Wanting so badly for it to end and get better.
I really could go on. I don't have the insight or the observations I has on this day last year. I'll just be glad to wake up tomorrow, in the arms of my love, and have this month be over. October is usually a better month. It is my favorite, after all.
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