Got the Blues? Dirt Therapy to the Rescue!

I normally try to keep my personal ramblings to my journal, since the physical act of writing is usually my chosen form of therapy.  That, and I’m sure most of you aren’t interested in hearing from my sappy, emo side.  But today, Emo-Me and Enviro-Me met, shook hands, and found that working together makes everyone happy.

I’ve spent the last month cruising through town on my bike (whose name is Sully, because he’s the same blue as the Na’vi) looking for a job in my new town of Salisbury, MD.  So far, neither my bike nor I have had any luck.  Long story short, the economy has not only poisoned the job market, but it’s made those who are lucky enough to have a job so desperate to keep them that they run through red lights & hit cyclists on their mad dash to beat the timeclock.  Luckily, both Sully and I are fine.  But, needless to say, I’ve been slightly depressed lately.

Since the promise of rain put my job hunt on hold for the day, I decided to feed my blues and curl up in bed with a cup of tea and a book.  I only lasted an hour before the sunlight dancing across the pages drew me outside.  Defying the edict of the meteorologists, the sun stayed out hours longer than it was supposed to, and I couldn’t help but think mother earth was doing her best to ease my sorrows.  While I know the stream of 60 degree January days is not very environmentally friendly, the weather is probably the only thing keeping me sane at the moment.  Instead of wallowing in my sheets and sorrows, I spent the day playing in sunshine, dirt, and weeds.  I decided to start my compost pile, using the leaves and weeds from the garden for the base and killing two birds with one stone.  I cleaned up our yard a bit, though I’m sure the promised rains will wash away my hard work.  Let me tell you, nothing cheers me up like the smell of water sprayed from a hose.  I know it’s just the smell of BPAs and phthalates and all the other chemicals seeping out of the plastic, but nothing reminds me of spring like that smell.  And that, mixed with the smell of fresh dirt, is better than any antidepressant Big Pharma can throw at you.


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