Sparkle

Carrie Bradshaw mentioned the "sparkle" in one of the Sex and the City movies, someone wrote a whole book about it, and we have lost it. Anyway, "life is like a washing machine" so...make sure you have a good plumber on stand-by? Or something to that effect. It's late and my brain is mashed. I'll leave you with this excerpt of relevance to how i'm feeling right now from a book I read once:

There was an unsettling feeling in her stomach. Not just the pit of her stomach like if she was upset or ashamed. But a stirring in the whole of her stomach, unsettling her, because she sensed what was coming.
"In light of the situation," she found herself saying, "I think we should--"
"No." He interrupted abruptly. "Take a break? No. Split up? No. I'm not having that."
Exasperation made her rolls her eyes.
"It's not just your decision, Stace."
"It's not just yours either." She countered. "And besides," she added to her argument, "when I start messing you around THEN you can come at me with that." She exhaled the stirring tension in her stomach. "I am sick to death of how you're treating me - I'm tired of the whiplash of changing emotions that you cause me."
Silence.
What was she expecting exactly? A better expectation for his questionable actions? An apology?
She exhaled calmly again.
"I don't know what you want me to say..."
She offered him a wan smile, her usually unwavering sympathy disappearing into thin air, and then she nodded slowly.
"When it comes to me, you never do."
He opened his mouth to protest.
He's socially awkward. He's not a good communicator. He's unable to think up conversions. He's inept at speaking his own thoughts.
"Yet when it comes to anybody else, you become a poet with your ideas and your music and your stories..."
By the end of every day, the only thing he had left for her was a simple goodnight when all she wanted was to know about his day.
"Stace..."
"Stop." She held her breath for exactly ten seconds, she counted in her head.
That's when she walked away. She could no longer deal with the stress of this conversation.
Or if she was quite honest with herself, she was fed up of having the same conversation over and over again. The awful thing about it was that she knew when she woke up the following morning things will resume their normality.
Life is like a washing machine, it has plenty of different settings, but she was pretty sure hers was faulty and was stuck on a repeat spin cycle.