Perspiration comes at the flick of an invisible switch, trigger factor unknown; unfortunately inspiration refuses to disclose itself. Yes, the body’s thermostat is playing up as usual but, the mind seems to have just stopped functioning altogether. I find myself staring at a blank screen, expecting something, hopefully in a verbally understandable form, to appear. A sense of vacant distraction seems to be the present role-play in which my mind sits uneasily.
I just wonder could it be the lack of caffeine, since last Friday’s doctor’s order, which leads to this almost perfect lack of stimulation. I’ve even sunk back into the nicotine habit, by way of compensation for this absence; I suspect that isn’t what the doctor had in mind. It may be slightly better if I only knew what this decaffeination process was in aid of; which of the multiple ailments, my psychosomatic being endures, will be alleviated by this exclusion from my dietary regime. It almost seemed like an afterthought when my GP threw out this proscription just as I was about to leave the surgery!
Perhaps it will take time before any benefit is realized, if nicotine poisoning hasn’t already undone any prospective benefit. At present I’m all too well aware of an aching void of boredom, taking the place of tearful frustration.