It’s been that sort of a week, beset by the most astonishing catalogue of malfunctions on a daily basis – physical, technological and bureaucratic. And none of it was my fault. The woman at the power company, for example, admitted that I’d done everything right; it was their system that was up the creek. She apologised, but by then I was already getting hazy glimpses of reality represented as an oil painting in which the burnt umber is cracking and melting and dribbling indecorously downwards.
Is this just bad luck? Is the system under which we operate cracking up? Are the stars in malevolent alignment at the moment? Is some invisible entity playing games with me? Is it a matrix thing? Is my mind slipping off the rails and projecting all the wrong energies? Did I ask to come here or was I forced?
Today I weeded the border around the greenhouse. It worked.