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desperanceIt's funny, I used to have epic powers of application. I could read all day, or write all day, or spend all day decorating/heaving furniture about/building theatre sets/whatever.
These days? Pfft. I have the attention span of an effete mayfly. Mentally or physically. I move a thing or pack a box or write a sentence and find myself instantly wandering off, checking the internet or drifting downstairs or talking to the cats or whatever.
Right now, I want to go shopping. There's nothing that I need to shop for; I have dinner for tonight and coffee for tomorrow, I baked bread this morning, I'm fine. But I want to go regardless. I waylaid myself thirty minutes ago by dragging down a couple of wheelie-bags that I'm going to pack bedding and artworks in; I need them to show to the nice survey-lady in the morning, under Things I'm Having Shipped. And then I thought I could actually start putting the bedding in one of 'em, to show a little more than willing; so I did that. And then I thought that, y'know, I could actually pack up my yarli (the artwork in question) in hordes of bubblewrap and seal it into the bag and then that would be done, tick vg.
So then I thought "where is my mailbag full of bubb - oh, hell. Also, damnation."
My mailbag full of bubblewrap has become Barry's substitute bed, his refuge-of-choice from the churning changing chaos that is the rest of the house. I can't pull that out from under him, not now...
So. Now I really want to go shopping. Also, the pulling-down-of-bags entailed a release of dust that really I should've thought about before. My bad lung is actively hurting suddenly, and - yeah, actually, maybe my body does know best. A bit of walking-in-the-air might be no bad thing. Whee! *vrooms*
These days? Pfft. I have the attention span of an effete mayfly. Mentally or physically. I move a thing or pack a box or write a sentence and find myself instantly wandering off, checking the internet or drifting downstairs or talking to the cats or whatever.
Right now, I want to go shopping. There's nothing that I need to shop for; I have dinner for tonight and coffee for tomorrow, I baked bread this morning, I'm fine. But I want to go regardless. I waylaid myself thirty minutes ago by dragging down a couple of wheelie-bags that I'm going to pack bedding and artworks in; I need them to show to the nice survey-lady in the morning, under Things I'm Having Shipped. And then I thought I could actually start putting the bedding in one of 'em, to show a little more than willing; so I did that. And then I thought that, y'know, I could actually pack up my yarli (the artwork in question) in hordes of bubblewrap and seal it into the bag and then that would be done, tick vg.
So then I thought "where is my mailbag full of bubb - oh, hell. Also, damnation."
My mailbag full of bubblewrap has become Barry's substitute bed, his refuge-of-choice from the churning changing chaos that is the rest of the house. I can't pull that out from under him, not now...
So. Now I really want to go shopping. Also, the pulling-down-of-bags entailed a release of dust that really I should've thought about before. My bad lung is actively hurting suddenly, and - yeah, actually, maybe my body does know best. A bit of walking-in-the-air might be no bad thing. Whee! *vrooms*