I have discovered one of the disadvantages of adding a few years under my belt.
Normally I am a fit and witty thirty year old in an auld fella’s body, but lately this has changed somewhat.
My theory is that there is a little stopcock or drain tap somewhere around one of my heels. I have looked, but I can’t find it, but I swear it’s there. And it has taken to opening and draining everything out of me. When I say everything, I mean just that – all my energy, mental faculties, the lot, leaving me just with an empty husk.
I had a grand sleep last night. It was uninterrupted even by Penny and lasted a good nine or ten hours. I awoke this morning and I am fucking knackered! I actually feel as if I spent last night inside the washing machine enjoying the benefits of a full wash and spin followed by a session of tumble drying. Maybe I did, as that would explain a lot, but I don’t remember.
So I am sitting here today staring at a blank screen. It’s not a case of not knowing what to write; more a case of not quite knowing what the blank screen is.
There is a vague thought simmering somewhere that maybe I should be going to the library or something but that requires thought and energy, both of which are distinctly lacking at the moment.
Herself has something she calls the “spoon theory”. I hasten to add that it’s her theory which explains why it makes no sense whatsoever.
According to the theory we each have a number of spoons [and please don’t ask my why spoons, because I haven’t a fucking clue] and we spend those spoons during the day. When the spoons are gone, we have no energy left. [I can only suppose that somehow spoons represent energy but I’m fucked if I know why – I did say it was her theory].
Now the theory states that if you have something energetic approaching on the calendar, that you save your spoons for the occasion. Now that’s all well and dandy if the event is clearly marked on the calendar, but what happens if the events are unforeseen? Presumably you spend all your spoons and go into the red and somehow have to borrow spoons from somewhere else? The theory doesn’t explain that bit.
Anyhows, I have been throwing spoons around for the last week or two as if they were going out of fashion and I have not only run out of supplies but I’ll have to save the damn things for days to come to make up the deficit.
If at this stage you are wondering what the fuck is going on with all these spoons and things, well, it’s a little glimpse into the little insane world that I inhabit. I suppose I’m used to it after over forty years of married bliss, but it may come as a bit of a shock to the sane?
Fuck! I think I need a holiday.
Probably one with soothing music and padded walls.