Hey you. Yeah, I know. I’m sounding all whiny and dejected, aren’t I? And it’s a beautiful sunny day so what’s my problem, like? Well. It’s hard to be a little grey cloud when the day’s so temperate.
Let’s go through the circumstances that have led me to feeling so stratusy.
Still off work. Fatigue. I’m so bored of it that I could barely muster the infinitesimal amount of energy required to type those seven letters. Gah. Etcetera. It’s been one of those days where I’ve constantly been doubting myself, questioning myself. Should I be at home? Is being medically signed off justified? Am I faking it, you know, for the extra hours in bed?*
This morning, once I’d dragged my sorry ass outta bed (I’m never using that phrase again, just testing it out, hate it), very half-heartedly semi-yoga-esque stretched, blended up a spirulina/spinach smoothie, drank said smoothie, after ALL OF THAT, I made a list. Oh lists. Where all (some) of the things start. Aside: I went through a phase of giving lists *hilarious* titles, such as ‘the last list didn’t kill me, I’d like to see this one try’ and such. Good times. Anyhow. The whole writing a list business made me feel weepy and oppressed. Damn the patriarchy! (I’m not sure I can hold the patriarchy responsible in this case).
Little wander round my house. Took the stairs two at a time (whilst gripping bannister, obvs). Made myself use my (cheap’n’cheerful) exercise bike. Managed fifteen minutes before I was almost dead from being bored. I find exercise tedious. Someone tell me about an exciting way of exercising? Or make it so it doesn’t matter? And just drinking wine is okay?
That reminds me. This might be why I’m all irritable. Hot weather demands that you sit outside, al fresco, sipping on an alcoholic beverage.
Me and L, in happy drinking outside times.
Sunshine and supping on a lovely, icy, refreshing G+T/beer/cider is one of life’s most innocent of pleasures. And we can’t even have that, apparently. Because of, like, something to do with your liver or some such nonsense. Hokum. I’m on a self imposed ‘dry’ week/few days. Stupid idea. Disclosure: not an alcoholic. Medication/natural lightweightness means I can only manage a couple of glasses of wine or whatever. But, you know, soft-drinks just don’t cut it on summer days like this. Erk. Pull yourself together, Ema.
Finishing Naomi Klein’s This Changes Everthing has not helped lighten today’s mindset either. Please do read it. Although I’ve just (always) been entirely inconsequential, the urgency and necessity of doing anything and everything in our power, as citizens, to force our governments to wake up and take action, to do anything and everything in their power, to avert the very worst future scenarios that lay in store for us if runaway climate change is not averted – that sentence has run away with me – basically, it should be all we’re talking about.
My butterfly mind however, directed me to Iplayer where I watched (for the second time), Father John Misty’s Glastonbury performance. He full on nailed it. So in his words:
But everything is fine / Don’t give in to despair / Cause I love you, honeybear.
*Disclaimer. I’m not faking it.