It seems like so long since I last wrote what I might regard as a “proper” post. Everyday happenings don’t seem to qualify. “I did this, then I did that” doesn’t stack up in the grand scheme of how I might be feeling, what might be on my mind, and where I think I’m going.
Time to redress the balance.
I feel lost. For several weeks the world has been carrying me along with it like a survivor on a raft in the middle of a wide, fast flowing river. I can see everybody I know on the bank - waiting for something from me, arms crossed. I have no control over the things happening around me, and feel like I am letting people down in all directions.
Days are running on a routine all of their own; get up, shower, get dressed, go to work, slog, come home, get shopping, shower, make dinner, wash up, tidy up, wash clothes, try to catch up with email, go to bed. Day after day.
I often wonder if I’m digging my own hole? I have been waging war with the house recently - attempting to keep it vaguely clean and tidy. If I don’t, it rapidly spirals into chaos. The weekend is a case in point - by breaking the daily rhythm, I might not wash the dishes immediately after a meal, and they will still be there the next morning - along with 15 mugs, three saucepans, ten empty packets, 2 cardboard boxes, 38 pieces of junk mail, a swing bin that was full two days ago and is now just getting taller with overflowing crap in it, 5 empty tin cans, 2 empty bottles… you get the picture.
Our house has some kind of supernatural “I’m going to f*ck you over” power working within it. The only way we can defeat it is by constantly running on our imaginary treadmill.
I now have a picture in my mind’s eye of our house laughing through it’s front door in Jabba the Hut fashion, with rubbish pouring from it like vomit.
(If you are wondering about the book cover at the start of the post, it just made me laugh, and this entry was so damn depressing I thought some levity might be required)