I’d felt a little low over the weekend and I couldn’t tackle the start of the week in the way that I wanted as I had to wait for a delivery this afternoon, as well as having a phone appointment overlapping with that, which in the end didn’t actually happen.
That spillage, I think, is stress-related. Overstirred the latte.
Running a 10.5k this morning helped my mood. It was a slowish one, again down to the marsh-like conditions in the park.
It’s annoying that Strava fails to recognise all my longer distance achievements during my first spell with them, and all my half marathon distances were lost once I walked away from Runkeeper.
I returned home with the running shoes muddier than ever. I do need to wash the running shoes but my problem is where? I don’t like washing these things in the shower which would be the easiest way. Sure, I can always scrub the shower out afterwards but seeing dried mud from many park runs circling the drain is going to trigger my OCDs. My golden rules are pay your rent on time and keep the streets outside of your home. Or in this case, the park.
I’ve got an intense few weeks of gigs coming up. I didn’t even know until last night that I had a show tonight, the first of four this week. I’m trying to learn a new bit for a 10-spot tomorrow night and just need to get into the gig groove this week. I’m not sure the new bit will be ready by tomorrow. Everything has to be re-timed.
I listened to a few podcasts over the weekend, watched some of the boxing, found a good site that brings me up to speed on the global scene (it’s covered very poorly in the UK). My go-to show over the weekend was Unexplained Mysteries, short format podcast, not my normal preference, but I just couldn’t make a decision.
I listened to an episode on the doomed Franklin expedition. It is extraordinary that those poor guys, with only enough food for three years, were spotted by Inuits in Canada’s Nunuvat territory five years after they’d left these shores to try and discover the much sought after Northwest Passage. I also listened to a creepy two-parter on Therese Neumann, the German Catholic mystic. I didn’t believe a word of it but it was nevertheless unsettling.
I think, given how bad my sleep is, losing that extra hour of the weekend has left me feeling somewhat slower today, hence the need to come out for a late writing session in the back-up café before tonight’s Clerkenwell show. I’m always foundering if my routine is broken up.
I made some SMALL talk with Muscular Madeiran as I came in. I started off on the big winter coat which I need to replace this week. Wearing it this afternoon looked ridiculous. “That s**t needs to stay at home now,” said the powerfully built one eyeing up my winter coat somewhat contemptuously. We then, with ease I should say, started talking about the problem with my new window. Turns out Madeiran is also having an issue with his windows. He only lives next door. He doesn’t have sash windows. He explained to me how his newer windows work but I brought the conversation back round to my faulty window because it’s annoying the hell out of me.
Just half an hour ago I was having to rummage around in the recycling bin, OUTSIDE, because having taken delivery of some new screws I needed, and unable to locate them within 5 minutes of receiving them, knowing how scatty I am these days, I figured I’d binned them. I then went through the recycling in the flat several times but the screws still didn’t turn up. I looked in every room. Then back in the recycling. I still couldn’t find them.
It was only when I emptied the recycling outside (guess who put the bins out again?) and about to chuck the recycling bag in the rubbish (it can’t go in the recycling), I felt something in the bag. Sure enough, it was the – do I need to even complete the sentence? I suspect I was meant to find the screws this way. I need to find a way of being more organised. I never used to be like this but these days, I always seem to be looking for something that I’ve mislaid and writing on my hand to remember something I need to do that I know I’ll inevitably forget to do. I even leave post-it notes on my trainers reminding me to do whatever it is I know I’ll forget to do.
Is it age? Is it just the usual pressures of life? I don’t know. I do feel like the admin increases as you get older, and the pressure of trying to get through things, certainly in my case, is just making things more disordered than ever.
16:44hrs.
I order a second decaf from Upright. She’s dropped cutlery today quite a few times and I’ve only been in here for an hour or so. Maybe she too has been left sluggish by the clocks going forward.
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