The result of this slow-but-steady seasonal change is two-fold: I've proceeded really nicely on the work I am doing, after a June which turned out to be pretty much a total write-off, and I have paused to consider how incredibly fast this year has zoomed past me. I know that it ain't over yet for a really good stretch, but there is something of an enormous shift within oneself when certain dates are coming up and one realises that, yet again, life is skipping along at a million miles an hour as we pant and shout in its wake: 'Wait! Wait for me! I am coming too!'.
I know why I feel this way. My birthday is coming up in September, in fact, at the very beginning, on the very first day, and there is nothing I like more than it (well, Christmas, but if we discount Christmas then there really is nothing I like more than my birthday). And the very odd realisation, when I look at pics from birthdays past, is that I haven't changed that much at all. Reasons to rejoice you will think? I guess so and yet it seems to me that, not having changed that much, makes me feel stuck and muddled in The Same, whatever I perceive that to be, with all the dangers inherent to that thought.
Today the Dyson doctor is coming. On Friday the cable detached itself from the machine as I was using it and a Mighty Pow at full 240v force left a burn in the floor as I picked it up, surveyed the sizzling end and realised that I got really lucky. I may not have died (wouldn't want to try it, mind you), but I could have ended up with a zinged foot. So why telling you this? Because the last time the Dyson doctor came over was two years ago. Two years. And, no kidding, it feels like five minutes ago.
