I’m tired and I feel heavy. It’s as much to do with the changing seasons as anything else. The cold is drawing in. It’s just gone 9pm, and the bath is already full. Hopefully I’ll be in bed soon.
Two young men came round this morning with a great big suction thing. Plumbers. They eventually managed to loosen whatever the hell was in my pipes enough that I can run the washing machine again without flooding the flat below me. The first thing they tried to do was upsell me – “do you want us to clean it as well as unblock it?” Fifty quid they wanted for ten minutes and a bit of acid. “I can do that myself.”
I won’t be using them again. They upsell and give quotes without VAT to make them look smaller. They did the job they were paid for though, which at least means that I’m now surrounded by drying clothes and I have a legitimate reason to have the heating on at full blast – to dry the clothes. And at least I won’t come home after Carol to a flat where I can’t use the kitchen sink.
I’ve sort of packed. I still can’t work out where I put my speaker, but my Kindle is packed as are plenty of my devices. I’ve got a bunch of clothes. A basic wash bag. I’ve realised I don’t have any contact lenses which will be annoying as I’ll have to do the show in soft focus. Since I’ll be driving I’ve packed a load of stuff I might not actually need. A reaper cloak. A bust of my head.
A Christmas Jumper. A broken down green silk nightie. Yogi tea bags. Supplements. I’ve even brought some DHEA which I was given and I’ve avoided until now. Maybe there’ll be more things to think about. I’ve given it time and I’m pretty happy that I won’t be craving anything. It’s only a month, and when I’m away from this cornucopia of junk I’ve accumulated, I always forget it immediately and feel a bit less cluttered.
The doctor prescribes a good night’s sleep, and a bit of self care. There’s another potential obstacle in the form of a storm over Normandy. Apparently some of the ferries to France from Jersey have been written off because of the weather. I’m hoping it won’t affect my boat, but I’ll have to keep an eye on it, and be ready to be either flexible or hardy. Stormy seas are no fun at all in a ferry. The crossing takes hours longer, everybody gets seasick, and the Jersey police are waiting at the other end armed with breathalysers so you can’t take the edge off if you’ll be driving. I almost fell foul last time after breaking at the last minute and having a pint with dinner. The reading was just under that time. This time I’m not gonna risk it no matter how bad the weather is.
I’m looking forward to getting stuck in. I just wish I didn’t feel so weird today.
It’s just my crazy brain. Hush now, crazy brain.
AlBarclay 