an unclean process

Just when you think it's over, something will happen to remind you of the power of grief.
And because of how I understand the psychological structure of memory, I find myself wondering if I am grieving for the most recent pain. Or for all the previous pain that has informed it, molded it, guided it, built it to it's heights of perceived reality.
Yes, I know that it's not "real." But the tears flow never-the-less.
*
I am reminded that disappointment is the most destructive of all emotions. It is only one level above death in hierarchy of feelings. Disappointment it turns out, is something I will avoid like the plague. And, we all already know this, sometimes we can anticipate disappointment so severely that we create it.
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New York was much better than I realized. I am looking back on the trip and remembering crisp air, breezes, clear skies, relaxation, joy, fulfillment. Even bliss.
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MFK Fischer. The Art of Eating. I recommend you read it out loud, while sipping a well rested red wine. Preferrably from Bordeaux. Combine with good cheese. A few meats. And maybe a tomato or two.
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The house was so dirty when I returned from the trip that I nearly flew back out the door. It smelled. There was urine on the floor. There was mud on the walls. And there was a lot of dirt on my sheets. I am sure I can get it clean. But what a disappointment to find the house is such a state. I suddenly forgot I missed the dogs.
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Wine glasses.