Turmoil.

          They're coming tomorrow to take all the windows out, and then  put other windows in. This will take two days, they said. So four days. Of  huddling and hiding away.

         In the midst of all this ... the wonderfulness of the bliss cannot be described, and I would like to get over this bliss shit and get back into the non-self and emptiness. I guess the bliss is just like the grief, except you know which one you'd like to get. Of  course, if you're really cosmic, it shouldn't matter. Neither should you be bothered by the men coming to take all the windows out. Dearie me. Be cool.