Pour the water please

One of the things water gets used for is the washing of hands. An aid to cleanliness, feeling of appropriateness before ingesting food via mouth, not transfering sin in touch, scrubbing to allow for underlaying layer to be exposed for clean contact, removal of barriers, symbolic shedding of sticking points.
I have the feeling at the moment of a vague glimmer of understanding as to how Pilate felt. Caught between a rock and a hard place, a feeling of frustrated helplessness, it is easier to just say, "On your own head be it, I have had enough and so shed any responsibility for what happens. I wash my hands of the whole damnable business."
Pass me the bowl and towel.

Reality bites

Oh sweet angel, what went wrong? How could a day that started out so ordinary, produce at least one hour so extraordinary? I knew I had a problem with being able to judge my actions and reactions but this day just went from reality straight into something from my imagination. No, beyond my imagination, for even I had not dreamed up a senario like that and you know how many hours have been spent in imagination.
Still, it is cause for sober reflection. Or more for nonsober reflection. On one level it is interesting as to how well I can read, even if I get the plot totally wrong. On another level it is even more interesting to wonder as to just how safe are assumptions that I have made? Ah, the problem of trying to catch hold of the mist. Dreaming of things that will never be. For it is very easy to say that you will bear the cost when you know that you will not be asked if you will pay the price.

Over reaction

Never let it be said, Lucifer, that I was one who was guilty of over reacting. Much. But what do I do? Return? Or stay away? For there is a very real problem with absence in that how do I let off steam? If I block this pressure valve how do I vent? It is not as if I have anywhere else, or anyone else I can turn to.

It is ironic though that the less I can turn to forms of comfort that gave me relief before, the more I need that relief. Something has to give, dear angel, and I am so afraid that it will be me.