There are times when you hit peculiar patches. Lots of things seem to happen in a rush and then all of a sudden, nothing. Standstill. Halt. And just as you get used to the peace and the quiet, it starts up again. Like a runaway horse down a mountain slope, eyes rolling, tail flying, frothing at the mouth. In a single day, there's good news, there's bad news, there's good news that seemed like bad news but later resolved itself into good news, there's news you just don't know what to do with. The works. You tend to work around it, though. These peculiar patches. Learn to stand still at a point and refuse to move until things sort themselves out because otherwise you're just going to go stark raving mad. This is good, right? Everyone needs those standpoints. I think.
Some of us find other ways around it. A routine, a habit, a schedule, anything that gives structure to the chaos. Some time during the day when you can just stop thinking, shut it all off. Not 'me time' because that would involve thinking about you. But just 'not-thinking time'. We are the lucky ones, no? The ones who can do this? The ones who've found the yellow, brick road.
The thing about yellow, brick roads though, is that there is a certain problem. They invariably lead you to a place that never was. And then what do you do? You think you have it figured out, everything under control, a place for every thing and every thing in its place. The question though, I think is, is there really a place for everything? Does it help in any way that you can disappear into your own world and come back out of it feeling better about everything without actually having done anything about anything? Isn't that a negative, rather than a smug advantage? Do we really want to travel to a place ruled over by a little, old man with green glasses? Especially if we don't even get to have the red shoes?