Good morning, and welcome to Pretty Pretty Princessland, winter edition.* I am currently blogging it up in my pjs and bathrobe, with a nice hot cup of coffee, IN BED. Yes, sister, I am blogging in bed.

And really, what’s that about? you may ask. I might spend some sweet space justifying purchases here, but, really, let’s cut to the chase: teenagers today (the delightfully nerdy ones, at least – you know, my favorite ones) don’t use the phone so much as talk for hours over Skype while playing together on the same Minecraft server, and recording it for YouTube, and I share a desk with Our Man Cub. Which is to say, it can become a touch noisy at my desk. And I payed down the Best Buy card from the winter holidays last week. So a Chrome Book? Yes, please. I joked that I would blog in bed, and so here I am test driving that business, in bed, cup of coffee, big orange cat purring up a storm beside me, and all up in some soft blankets. Also, I sat in my studio the other day and collaged like a badass while watching Netflix. SO MUCH WIN.

SO! I’m trying to indulge myself more. Does that sounds ridiculous so early into the year? I know everyone’s all about getting back on the stick and losing weight and being more disciplined about their exercise regime, and cutting out sugar and all that – it’s resolution time, still, after all. But I’m so totally into indulgence tight now.

Honestly, I’ve been working like a dog since about mid-November. With the museum where Will Dearest and I work(ed)** closing down and then the cleaning and moving and consolidating, I’ve been on my feet constantly, and not taking very good care of me terribly well. And I discovered something important: when I don’t pour enough sugar on the everyday, when I come home exhausted and eat junk food and zone out, just waiting for it to be late enough to go to bed, and then get up and do it all over again, I don’t like being me so much. When I operate like that, even my weekends go to the dogs – I spend a ton of time just sitting still and feeling sorry for myself over how much energy I’m expending for someone else (no mind that I’m being, you know, paid for it, and that I really like the people I work with, and that I actually like the work I’m doing there) and how I never get enough time to do my stuff and blah blah blah whine whine whine oh, my feet. Yeh, I don’t like living in that headspace. It’s like moving a 9′ metal horse through a 7′ door – you can do it, it’s just really hard and involves a lot of heavy lifting.

On the other hand, having something to look forward to a few times a day, is pretty freaking great. Like being able to move into another room with my computer when the noise of little block men dying to the accompaniment of teenage boys lamenting over the death of little block men becomes a bit much to bear. Or a sci-fi binge while playing with glue and paper. Or a hot bath including a bath bombe*** Or morning yoga. Or maybe a glass of red wine with dinner – which might be grocery store sushi, if we’re a little flush that day. Or how about blogging in bed on my day off?

What I’m finding is that when I get a touch indulgent with me, not only do I feel more like a person and less like a drone on perpetual lockdown, but I get more done. I’m more chipper at work out of the house, more focused when I sit down to meaningful work (read: art) at home, and I remember to take care of the little stuff that gets forgotten when I’m in a funk – you know, like taking my vitamins, or watering the plants.

Let me break it down: indulge, save a houseplant.

Sounds like a worthy arrangement, yes?

So that’s the plan: more time for doing things I love and that feel good, less time spent feeling guilty and weird about being nice to me. Chances are we get one shot at this consciousness, and I’d really like to enjoy it a bit more. So here’s to it – to the occasional chunk of chocolate, to the fifteen minutes petting the cat in the sun beam, to spaceships, to the houseplants. To blogging in bed!

***

*For those not in the know, I’m referring to some serious self-indulgence. For example, Pretty Pretty Princessland, summer edition, is how I refer to our apartment when it’s the dead of summer and we’re chilly-comfy in the apartment due to the air conditioning. I begin every summer intent that “This year I will embrace the heat!” and end every summer in Pretty Pretty Princessland.
**I still kinda work there, helping with the clean-up and the whatnots. Will Dearest is moving on to the Art Museum, which is huge and exciting and osm, and I cannot go into it without getting all squeeee! If you see him, congratulate him, ok?
***Holy shit, why didn’t I know about these before?? Someone gave me one for Christmas, and I was all like, “What do I do with it?” Only to find out that once you put it in the bathwater, the bath becomes fizzy and delicious smelling, and downright luxurious! WHO’S IN THE TUB? I’M IN THE TUB.

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