Last week, as I was whiling away some time on Twitter, I came across a guy who, like me, does not enjoy this time of year. He told me that it has all improved for him as he got older, and I guess that, together with saggy knees, the menopause, liver spots and dentures, maybe there will be something to look forward to with Old Age. Imagine enjoying March to August instead of proceeding as if shackled into a mould of black treacle...! I cannot even process it, dear reader, as even on those days when I step outside in a silk dress and with my hair in a knot because it doesn't need drying and styling, I invariably catch myself thinking that... God, if only it were October already and I could wear my scarf...
I settled down in bed at 11.30 last night and then I tossed and turned. And then tossed and turned some more. 0.47 am. Then 1.47 am. Then 2 am. Then 3 am. Then... you get the picture. Of course Victoria now gets up at an ungodly hour, as she sees so much light so early and evidently thinks that 5 am doesn't really look like 5 but more like 9. Wrong Vic. William isn't much better, although he seems to have understood the significance of TO YOUR BED!!!!!! after twelve years of living together.
When I finally caved in at 7.15 and got up, bending to their scandalous requests to be fed broadcast in my face at full volume, I felt teary. Here's another reason why I could never be a parent: I need to sleep. When I don't sleep, I feel tragic. When I don't sleep and it's summer, I feel even worse if humanely possible.
It's now 3 pm, I've been sitting at the computer for what feels like a lifetime, and I am all but ready to drop face-first onto the keyboard. Except... I've got one bloody ghastly meeting to get through still and the air is tepid and the windows are open and I am in such a low-key mood that it's a lucky miracle I didn't have to see anyone today, because I think that visual stimulation other than the blinking cursor may as well caused an implosion of my mental faculties.
It's not just the Seasonal Affective Disorder though; indeed I am not just afflicted by SAD, I am also sad.
As the whole job situation is as slick as oil and gives me the much treasured opportunity to think about all good things, something has been paining me for quite some time and I must confess that I am experiencing all of it as a death, no overstatement there. I think that it isn't just the SAD that didn't allow me to sleep last night but rather the enormous difficulties that I've been experiencing.
I don't know how to cope. In fact, the other day I wrote a pointless email to my best friend, telling him that my problem is... I don't know how to cope. But I guess that nobody knows how to cope about anything anyway, and that we only travel through desolate lands because we have no choice. I keep telling myself that absolutely everything will be fine by my birthday and that I needn't think about anything at all right now. But that's still two months ago. I guess I would be just a little bit happy if I could remove Victoria's cone, thus preserving what remains of the house. Just another week to go and then I'll update you all.
