I got home on Friday night, ate something (at least I'm fairly sure that I must have done...), staggered off to bed at an hour most seven-years olds might consider unreasonable, and BAM!!! suddenly it was Monday morning again...
Saturday seemed to vanish in a wave of old "Poirot" episodes (until we switched to "Columbo" in the late afternoon...) as we decided to enjoy one with breakfast and allowed the disc to run on into the next, and then the next, and so on. This, of course, meant that very little that was useful was actually getting done, despite my incessant pottering, and then on Sunday, despite going out first thing to do the supermarket run, once that was dealt with, the day just seemed to evaporate into emptiness and nothing more seemed to be achieved, although the kettle we were bought as a Christmas gift did finally escape from its packaging and muscle in onto the kitchen worktop, ousting its older sibling and consigning it to the scrapheap…
So... Exactly how many times are you supposed to boil up a new kettle and throw the water away before that strangely "new kettle" metallic taint vanishes from the taste of the water...?
Well, I said that we were up and about "first thing" on Sunday but what I really meant was that I did actually get up about 3.30am to see how the first one day international was going in Australia, fully intending to go back to sleep after discovering the true horror, but instead, my restless mind contrived to keep me listening until the rest of the household also surfaced and sleep was no longer an option. Naturally, by 11.00am, and shortly after we'd done that supermarket run I mentioned, the not-so-bold cricketeers had contrived to lose again, but at least this time they made a little bit more of a fight of it...
Maybe the dream-like state I staggered through the rest of Sunday with had something to do with that early dawn and the after-effects of self-inflicted insomnia?
Who can tell?
I do have vague memories of talking on the telephone a couple of times, but I'm not sure whether I was making much sense or whether what was being said to me has actually sunk in. Sometimes I just have to wait for the "awful truth" to dawn as the things which were said to me resurface a few days later, usually in a casual aside which starts "Someone was saying to me only the other day..." and my mind does a back-flip and remembers stuff that's been bubbling under since my less-than-attentive chattering at the time.
Who says we can't do two things at once? It's just that the "other thing" needs to be parked in the subconscious for a while until a moment becomes available.
So... Exactly how many times are you supposed to boil up a new kettle and throw the water away before that strangely "new kettle" metallic taint vanishes from the taste of the water...?
Well, I said that we were up and about "first thing" on Sunday but what I really meant was that I did actually get up about 3.30am to see how the first one day international was going in Australia, fully intending to go back to sleep after discovering the true horror, but instead, my restless mind contrived to keep me listening until the rest of the household also surfaced and sleep was no longer an option. Naturally, by 11.00am, and shortly after we'd done that supermarket run I mentioned, the not-so-bold cricketeers had contrived to lose again, but at least this time they made a little bit more of a fight of it...
Maybe the dream-like state I staggered through the rest of Sunday with had something to do with that early dawn and the after-effects of self-inflicted insomnia?
Who can tell?
I do have vague memories of talking on the telephone a couple of times, but I'm not sure whether I was making much sense or whether what was being said to me has actually sunk in. Sometimes I just have to wait for the "awful truth" to dawn as the things which were said to me resurface a few days later, usually in a casual aside which starts "Someone was saying to me only the other day..." and my mind does a back-flip and remembers stuff that's been bubbling under since my less-than-attentive chattering at the time.
Who says we can't do two things at once? It's just that the "other thing" needs to be parked in the subconscious for a while until a moment becomes available.
So, when I got up on the next morning it almost felt as if I'd just blinked... and - almost unbelievably - it was Monday again...
For a moment I truly believed that I must have got it wrong, that it could only be Sunday morning and I'd somehow split my memories in two, but then, as I sniffed at the steam from the kettle which had just boiled, and decided that the "tang" was indistinct enough to chance a pouring, the horrible, horrible truth dawned and Monday just had to be faced.
Where do the weekends go when you're just pottering about at home? Once upon a time I used to dread their endless loneliness, and the minutes would tick away so slowly as I waited for the phone to never ring and, following that, the inevitable return to work and the happier option of at least having a bit of company.
As an aside, if you ever had to suffer my incessant chatter in a workplace, I suspect that it may have been those empty weekends and evenings which were the cause when the mental floodgates opened as I got back to my desk... So, listen... I'm so very sorry about that...
If we go away for the weekend, the days seem to go on forever and I can be quite surprised that, having already spent what I consider to be a "full" day, I can look at my watch and find that it's still only lunchtime, and find myself wondering quite what else we're going to find to do in order to fill up the rest of the day. Whereas at home, the day seems to have barely begun before we're watching the room grow darker and the evening is upon us.
I need to do something about this. I need to make our weekends more important again and far less insubstantial. After all, if you're looking forward to them all week, it seems such a shame to look back on them with absolutely no sense of achievement, no matter how much you try and justify the fact that you really needed to recover from the exhaustion you were feeling...
For a moment I truly believed that I must have got it wrong, that it could only be Sunday morning and I'd somehow split my memories in two, but then, as I sniffed at the steam from the kettle which had just boiled, and decided that the "tang" was indistinct enough to chance a pouring, the horrible, horrible truth dawned and Monday just had to be faced.
Where do the weekends go when you're just pottering about at home? Once upon a time I used to dread their endless loneliness, and the minutes would tick away so slowly as I waited for the phone to never ring and, following that, the inevitable return to work and the happier option of at least having a bit of company.
As an aside, if you ever had to suffer my incessant chatter in a workplace, I suspect that it may have been those empty weekends and evenings which were the cause when the mental floodgates opened as I got back to my desk... So, listen... I'm so very sorry about that...
If we go away for the weekend, the days seem to go on forever and I can be quite surprised that, having already spent what I consider to be a "full" day, I can look at my watch and find that it's still only lunchtime, and find myself wondering quite what else we're going to find to do in order to fill up the rest of the day. Whereas at home, the day seems to have barely begun before we're watching the room grow darker and the evening is upon us.
I need to do something about this. I need to make our weekends more important again and far less insubstantial. After all, if you're looking forward to them all week, it seems such a shame to look back on them with absolutely no sense of achievement, no matter how much you try and justify the fact that you really needed to recover from the exhaustion you were feeling...
My weekend disappeared in hospital visits that were really one long wait for the next visit. Mother in Law in hospital after a dog attack/reaction to antibiotics/low and high blood sugar/dehydration/gout/kidney problems/prescribed medication poisoning/blood pressure issues/stomach infection. All in all a bit of a mess and a week on nothing much has changed. Here comes another weekend lost.
ReplyDeleteLate last year, one of the things that HMG seemed to be talking about wanting the NHS to look at with regard to care for the elderly was dealing with multiple conditions not mere the one that was the speciality of the war that they were currently on, so, given that long list, it does (at least) look as if that's starting to happen.
DeleteIt all came far too late for my mum, of course, but I kind of think that she may have been one of the statistics which became the reason why it was deemed necessary…
Our worry is that this is a taste of things to come. At 85 it takes so little to set some very bad wheels in motion.
ReplyDeleteVery aware of that… (!)
DeleteStill, all I can do is wish you the very best of luck with it. I'm sure that they are all trying their best, and 9 times out of 10, I'm sure the outcome is fine…