Fat Bunny

  • It’s Not My Fault…

    I’m great at procrastinating, but terrible at relaxing. And that seems really unfair, I could live with not getting something done if I could enjoy not doing it.

    At the moment I’m blaming all lack of progress today on people not showing up to buy my sofa. If the people had showed up a 9am when they said they would, then by now I would have moved my dining table inside, cleaned and painted 4 dining chairs and made a tasty lunch. But it’s now 2pm, I’ve done nothing and I’m hungry.

    Update: Couch now sold, but they can’t collect till tomorrow, but at least I can go get something to eat now.

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  • Five Minute Jobs

    One of the biggest changes to the way I do things has been achieved by just doing quick jobs when I think of them. I used to have lists full of small jobs that needed doing, I suspect some of which took longer to put on the list than they would’ve taken.

    In previous years I’ve piled Christmas gifts away so I can panic rap them on Christmas eve, because extra stress is what everyone wants at this time of year. But this year as gifts arrive, I wrap them straight away and put them under the tree.

    It’s been so much less work than usual, and it’s definitely my new way of doing things going forward.

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  • Now Swallow!

    Another day another test. It’s amazing the list of things you can find wrong with you, that aren’t actually the things causing the problems you were worried about.

    Anyway blessed be the public health care system and all who make her work. I’ll toast you all with this gritty cup of mint flavored goop.

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  • Ghosts of Christmas Past…

    I’m trying to be all tinsel and baubles this year, because I feel like all the ghosts arrived at the same time to tag team me.

    Do any children of divorce enjoy Christmas? Competitive gift giving, one year here one year there, 12 days of pressure. Every Christmas from 8-18 was incrementally worse, and it didn’t occur to me why until years later.

    Recently I’ve flipped between trying to Christmas traditionally, and not celebrating it at all. I’m flopping back to trying again this year, maybe it’s the almost adult kids, maybe it’s the loss of my father, maybe it’s the trauma. Whatever the reason for this particular season, I’m trying to provide a few happy memories if possible, but definitely less drama for my own kids.

    Maybe it’s the ghost of Christmas yet to come that’s really weighing on me. There’s nothing like the loss of a parent to say “your next!”. I don’t know how many of these chances I have left, so I’m trying. I even ordered an online Christmas feast delivery in a box, which is the modern equivalent of opening a window and telling a street urchin to get you a turkey.

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  • I’ve Got the Beard For It…

    So maybe I should become a Viking? Wear a tunic, learn to throw an axe, and so on. It might be nice to have an interest that gets me out and about.

    I’m much more likely to plat my beard and go to a renaissance fair than I am to barrack for a sports team. I believe if you want to get out and meet people these are pretty much the only options:

    Sports

    Religion

    Viking

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  • The Gall…

    Todays round of Doctors poking me, draining me has pointed the towards “maybe a gallbladder problem”, so I’ll be getting up at 5am to go get a dose of radioactive isotopes, and scanned around the middle.

    It’s nice that they are all taking an interest, but it would be nice if they could either fix the problem, or maybe stop sticking needles in me for a while.

    Oh and I had to pee in a jar.

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  • Throw Me Down…

    I don’t know if it’s the layers, the textures, or just the informal casual feeling, but I’m totally all about the throw rug.

    Comfort, cosy, calm… all the C words. All the years living in disorganized clutter (the bad C word) has given me a huge appreciation for the CALM part.

    There is also a bit of Sanctum Sanctorum going on, as I’ve definitely created a safe space away from the rest of the house. A place to retreat to when I get back from dealing with the maelstrom.

    I’m almost looking forward to winter…

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  • Where’s My Off Switch?

    It’s not having lots to do that’s exhausting me, it’s the constantly thinking about the things I have to do that really interferes with my life. I’m not great at just being in the moment and leaving stuff at work, and I really want to be. I’m either worrying about it or doing it, and when it’s done I just instantly start all over again.

    Sincerely Congrat-u-bloody-lations to those that can either switch it off, or compartmentalize jobs, study, obligations etc. but that isn’t me. If there are things that need to be done I’m going to have that going on in my head, even if there is not chance it’s happening today. If I have a job to do tomorrow, it is definitely going to be in my head all night, quite possibly ruining my sleep and making getting anything done the next day more difficult.

    I would give real world money to make it not the case. But I suspect unless I can ditch the Sisyphus boulder thing I’m heading for a Wile E Coyote boulder thing.

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  • No Prison Can Hold Me…

    My first day of house arrest is going well, I totally didn’t go shopping for food, and definitely didn’t spend any time cleaning. I mean putting on loads of washing and making the bed isn’t really cleaning is it? And it’s only real shopping if you use a trolley and not a basket. So as you can see idea of 2 weeks of rest is definitely going to be plain sailing weather.

    In all seriousness though I am taking it very easy, and not eating anything that will slow down healing. It’s just I am trying to ride that fine line between laying around resting, and laying around overthinking and letting my mind go into rooms it probably shouldn’t at the moment. I have about 7 books on the go at the moment, because I reached weird little bits in each that caused a bit of distress for various reasons. It’s a real talent to have a book on houseplants trigger uncomfortable memories, but I’m gifted.

    I’m also discovering that trying to take downtime a few weeks before Christmas is like playing the recovery game on difficult mode. Even in a world where there’s a shopping app for everything it still requires planning, and delivery times are rapidly filling. I may need to do a very early or very late visit to some shops soon to collect stuff that I can’t really ignore any longer. Wrapping paper and a Christmas tree are sort of the bare minimum for doing something festive, and I don’t want to waste a Christmas ever again.

    It’s inevitable that this will be one of those introspective ends to the year. With so much change and upheaval recently, I really can’t see how I will get to the new year without ponderous questions of the future swinging about and making a mess.

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  • Permission to Fall Down Sir?

    Up at 5am to drive a couple of hours for a doctors appointment, and people ask me why I’m not going to retire to a rural town, but I digress. My appointment this morning is for test results, because I’m incapable of just admitting that I’m falling apart without an official letter stamped in triplicate and nailed to the door of a church in Germany. Seems living on a permanent knife edge, eating only junk (and all your own feelings), saying YES to all requests, and working at tasks you have no appetite and little aptitude for, will wear you down a bit. And by a bit I mean a version of gastritis that causes pain, fatigue, and on one particularly scary day a bit of vomiting blood. My doctor has officially read me the riot act, and I’m going to need two weeks of drugs and food restrictions just to get back to feeling well enough to run other tests.

    I am pretty sure he knew I wasn’t going to slow down without actually being yelled at for being an idiot by a medical professional, or being forced to by ending up in hospital again. So he actually yelled, and tutted, and played the “you need to stop if you want to be around for your kids” card. Consider my card stamped and my leash yanked.

    I’ve filled my scripts, cancelled everything in my calendar, purchased a lot of beige food, and put a 2nd water jug in the fridge so I don’t run out of cold filtered H2O. It’s easy to be good when you feel horrible and everything hurts, the hard part is in a few days time when the antibiotics and anti inflammatory drugs kick in and I feel a bit better. But this time I’m going to be good, because it would be nice to be able to enjoy Christmas and not be a tired mess.

    Luckily I now have the permission to stop for a bit, permission I was not going to give myself, but now I have a doctors note to excuse me from sport Sir! And by sport I mean work myself into a state of physical and emotional exhaustion several times a week.

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