This past week I have felt like I’m floating in outer space. I don’t know where I’m going. I have no control over where I go, but also have no idea where I want to go. So, I float. I really, really miss my HoneyBear, but otherwise there are no emotions. Curiosity about where I’ll end up is minimal. I’m just floating which is neither pleasant nor unpleasant. I suspect it will become unpleasant when I have an idea of where I want to land. I can imagine impatience to get where I’m going. But not knowing, nor caring (at the moment) has no impatience.