the birding frock

the last two weeks have been overwhelmingly full.

i’m not sure if i can put into words the sort of stress that i was going through - it was almost as if my mind was put into a state of shock so that i wouldn’t be able to fall apart, which is what i am wont to do when i am running at full tilt. trying to get the loft to ’stage’ ready was an arduous task - so much so that the end product is something that we do not like - which i suppose, is the point. it looks like we don’t live there anymore, that two anonymous and somewhat cold people live there. no laughter, no sentiment, not much of anything. even the flowers died.

j. being away made things that much harder, meaning that i had to do a large portion of the moving of large pieces of furniture and a bit of packing on my own. not that i couldn’t do it, just the stress of having to do it in a certain amount of time, making sure that the painters were doing an acceptable job, going to work, the thoughts of our new house and the hope that we can sell our current one with ease, made it difficult for me to get out of bed in the mornings. too many vague thoughts at once, no definitives, made things a bit hard for me to cope in a manner that was assured and confident.

but now that it is all done, and all we have to do is wait, you would’ve thought that i’d feel much better, a bit freer. but the truth is, i don’t. i don’t think the butterflies in my stomach will fly away until the apartment is sold and we can be sure that our house will actually be our house. i keep picturing a future that is so certain, so lovely and so sweet - and it would break my heart if it didn’t happen. or its happening is delayed. mostly because i do not think that i can go through this uncertainty again. it’s all a bit too much.

i was thinking - is there anyway to just inject the starbucks doubleshot straight into my bloodstream? yes, drinking it works, and it is ever tasty, but i’ve always been one to think that caffeine doesn’t play with my wiring the way it does with most people - i could, take it or leave it… but this wee can of sweet and creamy pep makes me a buzzed little girl.

oh hey! in news that i can’t quite wrap my head around, we bought a house! yes, the one we wanted and thought we had lost for good, came back to us. i’m thoroughly freaked out and wondering how the hell we’re going to manage a move in less than 8 weeks (without having sold our place yet, ha!). good times abound! so, to recap:

-married

-puppy

-house

-other things i’m not at liberty to comment on.

we sure do pack in a lot of stuff in 9 weeks, don’t we?

now to crawl under my desk and hide.

i’ve been thinking, and october? it hasn’t been so swell. i won’t go into specifics, but from top to bottom my work, my health and my emotional wobbliness has made it a rather less than stellar month. and as i’ve spent the brunt of this day on the sofa, teeter-tottering between laughing and crying at dvds that i’ve seen umpteen times to thwart utter boredom and teeter-tottering on my achey ankle, i may have slipped into feeling slightly sorry for myself. i’m at a turning point unsure of where to turn. i keep saying, saying, saying that i’m going to do something, do something, something that is mine, something that is more than the 9 to 5, and invariably i’ve stopped myself short everytime. the same is true of this extra padding i carry around, this is isn’t something i do to steel myself against the coming winter. i do this because i just can’t seem to get a handle on myself.

i just need a break from myself, i’m just so predictable and so very tired of the usual run around i put myself through that i just want to sleep it off, break myself away from it and start fresh. i need to be new, do something else, something other than what it is that i usually do. i need to be the opposite of myself.

there’s nothing i like more than sitting on the couch, full of shrimp biryani and saag paneer, forlornly staring down at my ankle, which earlier this evening rolled with an emphatic pop and caused such an amazing amount of pain, i thought i might throw up. yes, right there on the floor, in my sweatpants and trainers.  what i do not like, is suddenly very apparent. although i am inherently lazy, i am obnoxiously stubborn, and do not listen. asking someone for help, even asking my husband for help is difficult for me. it’s a bit sad, really. i’m a pain in the ass to take care of because i’m too proud to admit that i’m hurting, or can’t do something on my own.

i actually apologized to my trainer for not being able to have the entire hour session, because, well, i maybe-sprained my bloody ankle.

so, i’ll sit here on the sofa for a bit longer, thinking that i could just walk right on over to the dryer and empty it out, take the clothes upstairs and fold it. and i could do all of this, i could also just take a blunt knife and start hacking away at my leg - the outcome would probably be more or less the same. help. why can’t i ask for help?

oh? also? we just bought a puppy! no, my ankle and the puppy have nothing to do with one another, i’m just not in the mood for a segue.

two hour lunches are grand. when they include vats of good french cheese and wine, it’s that much better. it’s fantastically improved when someone else is paying.

hullo friday - you? you i like. a friday with very little work getting done and more wine-tipsiness that is usually allotted for the afternoon. i am, apparently, drunk writing. this is new.
what fun.

i’m now going to quietly crawl under my desk and have a wee kip. no one will notice, i promise.

it’s sort of deflating how i cannot figure out the puzzle of my brain.

it strikes me as odd that my will is not strong enough to pull me through the most basic desire. i want something, but how badly do i want it? enough so that i have to work for it? enough so that i may have to sacrifice, scale back, go without? i’m not sure why it is that i haven’t been able to see myself clear on this one little/big thing.

is it because i’ve done it before? that i’m tired and don’t care enough about it? that one is a lie. let’s be honest. i’m holding myself back because i don’t think i can do it, don’t think i deserve it, don’t think it’ll last. it never has.

this oddity, this kink in my pysche, the one that leads me down dark paths and into holes i can’t climb out of without an incredible will; this is the questioning, the nagging that has followed me for my most of my life. it sniggers and mocks. it whispers sabotage. as if i don’t merit a full and contented life. on all fronts. as if the badness of what once was is mine to keep and never give away. that i’ll never trump my own twisted logic. and that just drives me up the fucking wall, because that shouldn’t be true, that can’t be true. it would just be too demented. but, i’ll try, as i tried before and won- if only for a brief moment. i know that i’m strong enough to try, stroppy enough to try.

it’s 6.17am - and i’ve found myself my own little corner of misery.

i’ve slept a total of about an hour and a half at best, and have been milling about the apartment for the last two hours, thinking that tea might be the very thing to save me. prior to that, i tossed and turned, left a sad little pile of crumpled up tissues on the floor and pleaded with my sinuses for some sweet relief. unobliging, as they are, they might as well have flipped me the bird and locked me in a cupboard.

i’d much rather be woken up by my alarm and getting ready to go to the office, then sitting here in dark, feeling sorry for myself. oh, i’m unwell.

there isn’t much to be said about waking up on the saturday of a long weekend feeling cloudy with sinus issues, coughing intermittently and clearing one’s throat approximately every 7 minutes on the clock. typical really, for me to feel a bit under the weather when i’m free to do as i please for a few days. i’m actually still quite surprised it didn’t happen once during our ‘post-matrimonial holiday’, i was expecting to wake up full of snot at any moment. but hark! it didn’t happen, kept it at bay - maybe, until now.

more than this, can someone out there explain the meaning of it being almost 25° (celsius) with a thoroughly unfunny level of humidity on october 6th - in toronto. ah, the havoc we have wrought. also? enjoy my hair. this weather does nothing for me. i’m about as attractive as a dish sponge at the moment.

where is my puppy?

equation:

6 -1 = 5 people incapable of picking up a phone.

and since i wear skirts and have boobs - i am, therefore, the only one able to pick up the phone and say “hullo, pixelhut, how can i help you?”

bah.

frappucinos are tasty, but should not be used as vitamin substitutes. they do not and will not make you feel less sleepy. b12 maybe, frappucino, doubtful. alas.

experiment concluded. outcome: tasty, yet nutritiously deficient.