My god, what a crappy week that was. And, in my case, accompanied by a lingering head cold and brain fog.
Hopefully the last 7 days stays firmly disassembled in the rubble behind me.
Cross fingers, and don’t look back.
Ah, before I go any further, I’d like to give a RIP to Jeff Beck.
A quiet guitar player who, as I told my friend Marty, took ordinary tunes and placed into levels of wow.
Case in point:
Man, that guy sure could make beautiful sounds out of nylon and steel.
Okay, back to me …
I don’t know if it is being back here, or the demands from the office, or this head cold, but all week long I just couldn’t get out of my way, or get ahead of anything.
I can’t tell you the last time the inner workings of my mind was so thrown into question, or a time when I have had that many negative thoughts about my fellow man.
And I must have apologised 9 times for simply being me.
Talk about a sad sack.
By mid-week, I was still watching myself trip over myself, as I reached for tissue number 785, 786, 787.
And if my less than stellar waking existence wasn’t enough. Two nights ago? Yeah, my sub-conscious wasted an entire dream on me getting a supermarket discount card.
Way to raise the bar.
So, last night, I had enough.
I kindly requested the outside take five …
To try something else.
I didn’t have to go too far.
First, I overly spiced my bowl of chicken and rice soup. Then I poured not a few glasses of wine. And lastly, I decided to unpack a box from my parents’ house collection.
The spiced-up soup was a solid move.
Turns out, so were the other two.
Out of the 15 boxes stacked in my reading room, I opted for the one marked “fragile” four times across all sides.
I did pause for an instance before digging in, wondering if doing this now was going to make me feel worse.
But, quite quickly, that trepidation melted into a feeling of connectiveness and calm.
As I got into it, it was like sleuthing: Individually unwrapping items, looking at each up close, remembering their origins, putting them in order.
Like the black and gold vase from Monastiraki. And the hand-drawn scenic mug from Great Missenden. And the porcelain St Brigid Cross from Inishowen.
My Friday night was a box with very lovely pieces that came with very lovely family stories. And I sat with them until the clock told me it was Saturday.
When I took myself to bed, I had what ended up being my first sneeze-less sleep since December 3rd.
I’m still a little nervous about this weekend, like maybe the unpleasantness of the past week will rise again. So with that in mind, I’m going to take today low and slow.
I’m thinking maybe I’ll tidy up a corner. Take a few things to donation. Ask a friend about their day.
You know, make a tiny personal improvement here and there, and not take on the world.
THAT … I leave for tomorrow.