Now I would be loathe to be one who simply reports on the wonderfulness of life. It’s anathema to my appreciation of blogs and my own obsessive practice of a web journal to post nothing but happy snaps, beach vistas and cocktail nights accompanied by witty reviews on the fabulousness of life.
Today I stayed at home, having taken three days of sick leave. I woke up at 6.30 with the realisation that the pain in my back was still there. I spent the majority of the day in an old night dress all day (even gardening) and I have done almost nothing. I ate crackers with cheese while reading Beating the Blues and when the crackers ran out I continued to eat the rest of the 125 gram triangle of camembert until there was nothing but the plastic wrapper left.
One way of overcoming feelings of hopelessness is to write down all the things that you did in your day that made you feel happy.
- I planted the new Star Jasmine.
- I re-potted two plants.
- I made a banana smoothie.
- I put away my clothes.
- I washed the couch cover.
- I read a large portion of a self-help book.
Some days, small tasks seem like great achievements. Other days world domination appears in reach, although these days, that feeling of invincibility comes far and few between. Maybe it fades away with old age.
Tonight I walked both dogs with their two leads in one hand. They have already learned to walk together without snapping at each other and getting tangled up. I felt charmingly cosmopolitan in my little tuxedo jacket and ballet flats walking my two small dogs to a Japanese restaurant and getting take-away sashimi. The feeling of über-chicness waned somewhat when I had to pull out a plastic bag to pick up a dog-poo and then proceeded for three blocks in search of a garbage bin with a bag of excrement and my sashimi dinner in the same hand.
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