Getting out of bed for one.
I’m just up and it’s midday. I keep telling myself, don’t think about it girl, just put your feet on the floor and straighten them knees up, but as I always over think everything I’m still waiting for that to work.
And then, when I’m finally up and remarkably find myself in the shower, I’m even more fed up because then I’m all wet and can’t be bothered to get out.
Also what’s not been happening is getting out and about in the real world, although that’s never bothered me much. Once I’m out it’s like, wow, so this is what civilization looks like, but once the initial surprise is over that’s it really.
And the blog.
What can I say, except that’s it exactly.
What can I say?
I’m boring myself to death in a dense pit of gunk so why bring everyone else down?
But every so often I feel that I need to at least write something. It’s like we had this thing going on and I’ve just walked off and not looked back.
I do think about everyone.
As I dragged myself through the post shower drying process this morning I even thought how nice it would be to go to Peru with Gale and eat guinea pigs! But then I thought of poor Guiness and how he’d be turning over in his little grave at the thought and how thankful he must be that he just died of a respiratory infection and not because he had been roasted alive in some charcoal pit in South America.
It’s nice to travel, but I guess you have to think about these things…
And I’m really worried about Cecilia all alone in South Africa going off on those safaris. Haven’t heard from her in ages.
So that’s me.
Still crying over dad.
I mean, not always, but just enough sadness to suddenly be brought up short and go through the whole thing again in my head. You know, like how he had just fallen over and wasn’t really dead at all, but then they went ahead and cremated him anyway, even though he had three weeks in between where he could have jumped up and shouted ‘surprise’, so in actual fact the crematorium killed him and it all could have been prevented.
You know, the normal thoughts…
Well normal if you’ve got this low lying depression going on with a touch, just a touch, of psychosis.
I have been getting into the studio as some of you might already know because of Instagram. I’ve also had a few custom orders which always surprises me, and have sold quite a lot really. So that’s nice. It just takes me longer and longer to get in there.
I’m going in there after this although really I just want to sit on the sofa and close my eyes.
Grief is an awful thing, and guilt, because my sister is left in England finishing up all of the paper work and what else is required when someone dies.
And she still has dad under the stairs although she says that’s o.k. as she lets him know the soccer results every time she needs to get the vacuum out.
So just in case I’ve managed to bring anyone down into my gunk pit here’s one of my favourite Christmas jokes to cheer you up.
See you next time.