Itchy Feet

I have itchy feet. Not the kind you can scratch. The kind that requires change, moving, difference.

The annoying kind.

If I just had itchy scratchy feet, I'd get some damn ointment and be done with it. A cheap solution. Unfortunately, my problem usually requires a ticket. Plane, train or bus, doesn't matter as long as it gets me somewhere.

So, as it stands right now, I've been back here in Canada for 6 months. I gave myself 6 months to figure out what I wanted once I returned. Guess what? 6 months and not a freakin' clue.

The other night I was sitting on my bed when it hit me. The over whelming need to rearrange my furniture. I get this every few months and have been getting it for YEARS! Things must be changed. The bed must be in a different place. It took a few nights (this process must only ever be done in the late evening/early night) and some creative planning but my apartment is different. I was explaining my moving to a friend and then it hit me... I move the bed so I sleep somewhere different! Suddenly a weird quirk about myself was solved.

It satisfies my itchy feet for a time being when I can't get a real fix for my problem. It's like drinking the free beer your friend brought to the party, when you forgot your tequila at home.

Mmmmm, tequila.


I'm continuing on with the dance classes and I think I may actually be getting better. My hips sure like the movement of belly dance and for the first time, I actually could do both the arms and feet in a break of Flamenco. Rock on! Or rather, olei!

S.