Confusion reigns supreme and I feel spectacularly useless.
I wish I were at home.
I would still be useless, but at least could read a book instead of worrying about it.
Maybe visit my new hammock, as yet unchristened, with pillows and gin and tonic in hand and snooze suspended high above the ground (it is rather shorter than my last hammock and therefore a good foot or so higher).
O just let it rain and wash me away to a deserted island with but gulls for company.
Actually I want my cats with me.
And fresh water also and some conveniently washed up sharp metal implements and naturally occurring fruit and vegetables wot I recognise and that look after themselves and maybe a fishing rod. Though I am not comfortable with the idea of killing fish much.
Perhaps I shouldn't ask for a deserted island. Perhaps what I need is an occupied island where they revere me as a god or something.
But then, what if the crops are bad one year? Or it doesn't rain when they need it too? They'll want me to jump into a volcano or something equally discomforting.
Some days are like that. Please forgive the grossness but they are described in our house as 'days where everything I touch turns to pus'. And I think we all have days where we don't want to play. Good luck, and I hope it improves.
ReplyDeletelol - that's excellent :)
ReplyDeleteIf I were feeling energetic I would try and rewrite a verse or to of Paul Kelly's "Everythings turning to white" to "Everythings turning to pus".