Diary | The best laid plans
I’ve kind of fallen at the first hurdle with my year-end goals.
I mean, I wrote that post a few days before it was published, and when I scheduled it in, I didn’t really register the fact that it was going to go live the morning the result of the US election was announced. Or, maybe I just didn’t anticipate how much that result was going to affect me, I don’t know.
Either way, I woke up on Wednesday morning to a world that felt far darker and scarier than the one I’d gone to sleep in. This is the second time this year that I’ve woken up feeling like this, and although it’s not my country, and not my president, I was still thrown for a loop by the whole thing: so much so that all of my grand plans to edit books, run marathons (Well, OK, maybe not marathons, exactly…) and generally kick ass, were abandoned in favour of endless cups of coffee and a complete inability to pull myself away from social media.
I guess I’ll start my new routine next week. For now, and for everyone else who needs a virtual hug right now, here’s a photo of my dog in sunglasses:
Cool or what? It’s been a couple of months now since his operation, and, as you can see, the fur on his neck is growing back in nicely. He also has a new lease of life, which is so good to see: it was a horrible, stressful time for us all, but we’re really glad we did it now – I mean, just look at that face!
Terry and I were also at the doctor’s this week, for our flu jabs: a process which I’m very grateful for, obviously, but which also terrifies the life out of me, thanks to all of the posters which decorate the walls of the waiting room:
For those of you who don’t know, I have pretty bad health anxiety, which means that I can’t even hear the symptoms of any illness without immediately becoming convinced that I have it. It’s one of those things that’s hilarious to other people, but not even remotely hilarious to me – especially not when surrounded by SO MANY TRIGGERS. Seriously, I’ve NO IDEA why the NHS thinks it’s a good idea to be all, ‘Hey, I know you’re just here for a flu shot, but have you considered that you might have also have cancer? Or bowel disease, perhaps?’ Well, I mean, I DO know: I guess it must actually save lives, in which case, more power to them, but it really did make me want to just STAY AT HOME: and not just to avoid the winter vomiting bug…
In happier news, this week my brother-in-law, John, got the keys of his new house, and Terry and I went round to help him move some stuff. While we were there, we found a couple of pages from a 1973 newspaper in the kitchen : now, I HAD been hoping for a treasure map, or a secret diary or something, but this was pretty interesting, too, if only for the prices:
15p tights! A coat for £2.99! The inexplicable use of the word “sox”! Can’t we all just LIVE in 1973, seriously? Or, on second thoughts, maybe not:
That must have been one hell of a school disco, is all I’m saying…