Dragging others into my insane (undiagnosed) vortex: was I really talking to Tony about adapting my world to a life on one floor? No wonder he was out of here.
What sort of pall did I cast over MP's birthday? I could hear something change in her voice when I said I was in pain. Had I never spelt that out before? I am so, so sorry. I just sit here, causing chaos, watching other people's heads spin with my my mess. Oh, God, God, what have I put in the post today? It's like dropping atom bombs.
Sitting up in bed with the steam from a hot milk rattling the thinnest bone china saucer that's keeping the heat in; I knew, even as it was on the stove, that I'd be distracted before I drank it.
Next project: install wifi - then I'd really be writing this in bed, not retyping my late night scrawls; getting out of bed, giving up, coming down and playing with the laptop one last time. It's like an addiction. I've lost count of the time spent at my desk - but I'm happy there, of sorts.
Relabelled my homeopathy 'panic' medication with a label reading (subtle difference here) 'don't panic'. Each time it caught my eye, I'd felt commanded to 'panic'; I could almost see a miniature Clive Dunn waving his arms, inviting me to follow his chicken-headed lead.
I give up. I've washed the floors now. Still, the milk is vaguely warm - can't have been a very thorough job on the floors.. Time to try bed. Could I by any chance be avoiding it, because it'll bring me even closer to tomorrow's bone scan? I could always try the ironing. But I'm getting tired. I need to sleep. Go on, you can do it, think of it as an achievement, target for the day.
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