I’ve already read one speed-written post this evening. My friend Gigi (who assures me she might, perhaps, link up with us) was charged with writing a post in an hour. Would that I had the luxury of an hour! Nay, fair friends – I have but 16 minutes until I’m officially late for keeping up with my schedule.
That said, as the schedule is self-imposed, it hardly matters too much. Except it does, because the other end of the schedule – the reward, endgame, or goal, of being organised (somewhat) this evening – is SLEEP! Which I need. We all need sleep, and to judge by the prevalence of sleep-related articles on the internet, I assume that most of us aren’t getting enough, but I quite chronically aren’t. I stay up late (til 2am or so) most nights, to keep up with my Muricans, who have the temerity to operate in an entirely different timezone, precluding first-thing-in-the-morning contact (unless they’re late-late on their way to bed) and early evening chats which coincide. Instead I am forced to hang on until after lunchtime for them to wake up, and then bid them good evening as I stagger to bed, wishing once again (and so fervently) that I were in the right timeline.
It will happen.
This week, I even have some thankfuls pertaining to The Plan, which is as yet still very much amorphic and unsettled, but results in me living in Murica, having trained as a massage therapist, thus affording me a method of gainful employment and spare time in which to write. That’s one way forward, anyway. Others are still more amorphic and audacious to the point of outrageous, and I’m not willing to share them yet, but BELIEVE ME, if I can pull it off, my Plan B(1) is absobloominlutely FABULOUS.
I’m also going to be away this weekend, visiting Dad and propping up his comfy couch (it’s due to rain. a lot.) so I will be relaxing in a manner quite in absentia from the normal of my weekend. I’ll catch you all as I can (I’ll still have my phone with me – of COURSE I’ll still have my phone with me).
9 minutes left.
My Thankfuls run thus, in no particular order:
Bruises on my knees to remind me that I’m too big and heavy to clamber out of the swimming pool umpteen-thousand-and-millionty-one times to dive back in with Niece…but that I have a Niece who LOVED going swimming with me, who conquered her fear of The Deep end, and who wanted to dive in with me, holding hands, as “Love Star Jumps” umpteen-thousand-and-millionty-one times.
Strange and unusual switches, which may or may not send us into space, call The Doctor, or set off some mysterious chain of reactions (Rube Goldberg-style) which makes something utterly magical happen. Or something utterly awful. I pondered the switch for a while, and eventually plucked up the courage to ask a nearby Friendly, who informed me (and demonstrated to me) that the Strange and Unusual Switch…
THE LIGHTS! *sigh* (I was a little disappointed, but it’s still a cool switch, and I can dream).
What else. Hm. Four minutes to go, and I feel as though my schedule is NOT going to be kept up with. The beauty of having one’s own schedule and inherently self-centred accountability, is that when you let yourself down in one area, you then find yourself in something of an internal altercation, with the disappointed side rolling their eyes and charging the wayward side to do better, all the while the wayward side thumbs her nose and explains that writing is a most beautiful endeavour, and boxes and showers and piffling things like SLEEP can wait.
Upon which point, NAPS make the list (and the wayward side has just reminded the accountable one that BOTH OR ALL OF US had a forty minute nap earlier, which must surely offset some of the urgency to be getting to bed quite so soon), even though some of my naps might be 6 minutes or 9 minutes, snuck between sets of patients at my clinic…some might be accidental naps on a cold hall floorway (too cold to repeat, even though I got a post out of it), and some might be delicious, totally snuggled naps (on my mum’s bedroom floor, tucked up close to the warmth and whir of her dehumidifier, whilst wrapped in my king-size duvet) for two blissful, much-needed hours. Whichever way they come, as long as they don’t happen at the wheel of a moving vehicle, I love them.
I’m now out of time, but the wayward side is folding her arms and demanding to continue, so I will, and will let you know (a la Gigi) how much longer than expected it all took me. That said, I’m probably pretty pleased and perhaps pompous in pronouncing that I’ve produced so much in 16 minutes. That said, 801 words is only as good as their content, and that, my lovelies, is down to YOU to discern, as to whether or not this tickled your fancy or left you spitting kittens*
Plans have been laid and must persist, and in spite of my recalcitrance and heel-dragging (because it’s hard work and boring and omg I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF!) I’m getting the packing of boxes done at the flat, and gradually moving them over to Mum and WonderAunty’s house where they’re being schlepped up into the loft to sit there until I’m ready to either jettison the contents and accept they no longer have a place in my life, or to assume them into whatever new format my life takes, as and when it become somewhat settled.
I’m still SO SO SO SO HUGELY VERYMUCH thankful for everyone’s support and encouragement in said doings, and right this second now, for WonderAunty, who expressed her horror at my plan to visit the supermarket and get cardboard boxes soon, and brought me a little bowlful of honey-roasted cashews. She’s also taken on the project-management of my move, and is doing all things most wonderfully, in ways that I wouldn’t even begin to think of.
That said, I did manage to take myself to the Big, In-Town Post Office and get my photo took (feedback on said photo being “It’s not terrible – it just looks as all these types of photo look – they’re all ‘of a kind’, and that’s just how it happens” (I’m just glad I look like a drug smuggler rather than an axe-murderer, which seem to be the only options for these things)), and my International Driver’s Permit OBTAINED (thanks Val, for putting me onto it). So I’m now going to be road-legal in February, when I visit to start establishing work roots and getting sorted out.
Ten minutes over, and I’m reminded to be thankful for Lisa, who did some proof-reading for me, and gave me VERY helpful feedback like “You’ve got a couple of sentences which stop halfway and don’t go anywhere”, because I was suffering from a nearly-cold, and just *couldn’t*. I’m thankful for Galit, who asked for the piece in the first place (watch this space – it’s going to be in a brand-new-for-me place, SOON), and for Yvonne, for keeping things going in 1000Speak (the theme’s forgiveness, this month…start thinking now in preparation for the 20th).
12 minutes, and I’m thankful for Clark’s insistence that the gravity challenge is an exercise in self-vs-self rather than any kind of competition against others (if it were, it would be one I was losing) and that I’m vaguely participating (though I’m not sure that the cashews (or the bowls of sugary cereal I had previous to those) will help my cause). Ah well. Ups and downs happen, and as long as the general trend is POSITIVE (in attitude, not lbs) I should be okay. I will be. I will be okay.
I’m super thankful for the people who check in with me each week, some a few times, some every day, and make my world much, MUCH better with their friendship. Just…you guys are AWESOME and I adore you. A lot. Thank you 🙂
I reckon that’s Ten Things, and a delightfully mirrored 16 minutes the other side of the o’clock, I’m DONE!**
YOUR TURN! What things have you been thankful for lately? Big ones? Small ones? Some as big as your (wait, does that work for thankfuls?)
Happy weekend, my lovelies.
*Sneaky thankful there, for a turn of phrase I used in this week’s Six Sentence Story, which got everyone talking.
**Okay, I was done writing, but once I’d made the links and the linkie code and the pictures and flung it all together, it was rather later, at 11.35pm. NOW I go to get boxes…