The Woes, The Woes...

I’m aware that the blog has been a bit under par this week. The old fatigue problem that was such a problem last winter is back on fine form. The walk took some effort tonight, and I fell asleep in front of the fire for over an hour when I got back. I suppose it didn’t help that I went to bed at twenty to four this morning and was awake again at nine. That’s become normal these days – 5-5½ hours a night, no doubt exacerbated by the stressful situation that is gnawing away at my innards with unprecedented consistency.

And I have a hospital appointment on Monday… And no doubt the surgeon will tell me that I really must have the operation he told me to have four years ago, but which I declined because it carries a risk of permanent facial disfigurement if his scalpel strays off course by a millimetre. I don’t mind being thought strange, but I don’t particularly want to go and live in the bell tower of the local church. I doubt that it’s very warm up there, and I don’t know of any gypsy girls in The Shire on whom I can exercise my predilection for rescuing damsels. (Or was it abduction? I don’t remember. I think it was probably a matter of perception.) Besides, I hate hospitals, especially modern ones that are all science and no soul. And I won’t have any visitors, you know. I won’t.

So there you have it. Maybe things will improve soon. They usually do eventually.

(Be grateful I didn’t make that post about how it’s possible to become not only a stranger in your own world, but even an alien in your own life. That one was really heavy.)