spoilt by lack of choice

Just how irritably tetchy, like an overwound spring, I'd become wasn't immediately apparent but, (these days) the most minor event goes wrong and, wham, bam ... I'm in there without so much as a by your leave. I feel sorry for the recipient of the agressive verbal outpourings that ensue, it just seems so contrary to my (what was always seen to be) laid-back temperament. To be honest I never suffered fools (especially the supposedly intelligent ones) gladly but, would always deal with the situation in a calmly measured way, at least that's what I attempted. Nowadays it's shoot first ... ask questions later.

On the one hand I know that suppressing anger / outrage can have a negative effect on one's psychsomatic well being but, at the same time, rapidly vented anger leads one into a lingering slow-motion period of regret, the outrage having frequently been disproportionate to its triggering event. Unfortunately I never have sufficient stamina to release the pent up frustration by more directly physical means - walloping a punch-bag, bopping the night away, even going out for a lung stretching high speed walk is out of the question - so I'm left with a fiery verbal temper.

Since succumbing, eight years ago, to this excruciatingly painful, socially isolating, chronic condition, the irritability quotient seems to have multiplied in an almost logarithmic progression. Intense frustration arises on occasions when I've decided to go with ma belle to do some shopping, only to find that minutes after belting up in the car I suddenly feel too discomforted and unwell to pursue this course of action. At other times I arrive at the shop and have to find a place to sit down, in splendid isolation, whilst ma belle does the shopping. Bracing myself for such outings as visits to shops, GP surgeries, or indeed any priorly arranged appointment, swiftly depletes my already limited stamina reserves. Should a last minute change occur to any of these plans, that's when the spring snaps ...

What surprises me most is the high degree of contentment I have in simple pleasures such as sitting out in the arbour seat, observing the garden's flora and fauna, or basking in the presence of my beloved in the evening. I am essentially a happy, easily contented person; I just wish my body would allow me to socialize more, rather than constantly having to fall back on being self-contained. An asocial mode of being is not my lifestyle choice. 

tetchiness abounds

Chest and shoulder muscles are really playing up, the pectoralis major more achingly griping than the deltoids and, as the day goes on I become increasingly tetchy. The heat of the day certainly doesn't help, 28 centigrade at present, as I've never been a hot weather person. Currently we're sat in the back room, curtains drawn, revelling in the cooler air current proferred by an oscillating fan. It's quite strange really, this coolly refreshing synthetic breeze serves to keep me reasonably alert, whilst aching muscles, minor digestive problems, and a muzzy head, keep reminding me of the need to rest.

I've just been trying, to little avail, to catch up with received e-mails but the least distraction from what should be a minimal concentration endeavour makes me feel quite stressed. 'Tis better just to float - wish I could be as laid back as a lot of people think I am - but, for some reason I just tend to keep swimming against the tide!

Attempting to relax is such a wearying business, leaves one without sufficient stamina to simply be. 

I know the garden is the place I should be, the place where I am truly me but, prevailing temperatures militate against my participation in such enjoyable diversions.

Frustration Rules

A generalized sense of shatteredness has replaced much of the familiarly painful discomfort of the past few years yet, simultaneously, the tetchiness of my achingly disoriented days has returned with a vengeance. I suppose that, on one level, I feel rather guilty about not doing more with my time; after all, I have periods of a few hours on most days now when I feel totally alert but, even many of my e-mails remain either unread or superficially browsed through and my best intentions remain just that, intentions.

At least when pain was being experienced at excruciating levels I felt that was genuine reason for not getting off my backside and committing myself to some positive action or endeavour, manifest in either literary or painterly output. Currently, I find myself exhausted when I go to bed (at a time I once would have considered early), restless through a goodly portion of the night and, spasmodically sleeping through a goodly part of the morning, once I've discovered a suitably comfortable posture. It's rather strange being neither a night-owl nor an early riser; where once a few hours bed rest ensured an adequate energy resource, many hours of rest don't seem to leave me with much of an energy reserve at all.

Before anyone jumps in with a solution, I must emphasize that whenever I forego my lying-in period a totally mind-numbing, muscle bruising, fatigue overwhelms me before the day is out. Any self-enforced increase of exercise seems to have an intensely negative rebound effect on subsequent days.

Frustration rules!

FALSE DAWN

Yesterday morning, bright sunshine greeted my emergence into day and, most unusually I was feeling wide awake long before 9.00AM; the general rule is that a state akin to wide awake is rarely [even half-heartedly] achieved by yours truly before 10.45AM! I even felt that my nights sleep had been of a refreshing variety, despite my having run two marathons in one day before getting lost in the centre of an unknown town, unable to find the loos. Dreams are certainly peculiar things!

How could I account for a good nights sleep, dream sequences notwithstanding ; the only aid I could think of was having partaken of an extra shot of macchiato at the Café Culture the preceding afternoon. Now there's a paradox!

Anyway, whatever the reason, this unusually early alertness continued throughout the morning, relatively pain and ache free [a most unusual ante meridian experience]. By late morning I was ready for a walk down to Waitrose with my beloved; the walk entails a 15 minute stretch along the Leeds Road before taking the tree-lined footpath across the stray, approx 7 minutes, and a further 5 minutes in the direction of the town centre. That's one helluva long exercise for me but, I managed it and, even enjoyed the walk back home.

All went well with the day until early evening, when an excruciating sense of despairing helplessness overwhelmed me, the sheer pointlessness of everything. The cause for that dramatic change; I'd started wondering how the hell I could get the tax people to sort out one of my pension providers who tax me on every penny even though, all other incomes having been taken into account, I have a further £3 ½ grand tax free allowance. I've never been averse to paying tax but, having completed endless forms, both prior and subsequent to attaining state pension age, no progress has been made on this front! [The pettiness of the issue is that the monthly payment is a mere £62 gross and I'm having £13 take away in tax each month – but when one feels shattered the whole issue takes on gargantuan proportions].

Even my preparation of the main course for Sunday lunch – always pre-prepared on Saturday evening – held no pleasure for me and, subsequent telly-gawping proved absolutely disastrous. The Vile Twins [that's not their stage name by the way] getting through the first stage of boot camp [we're talking X Factor here] made me quite apoplectic; if ever there was a case to be made for abortion, or even euthanasia, these twin contestants are it. Before their miraculous advance, I'd already declared that their advancement would sufficient to prove that there is no god, no evolution either for that matter!

A further cause of my general sense of irritating helplessness is the constant petty bitching experienced on all of the ME sites run by fellow ME sufferers; no wonder that no progress is being made. Doubtless the condition is a physical neurological one, of possibly viral origin, even though the vested interests of medical insurers and pharmacological industries are more than happy to support the psychologizers arguments.

Where my fellow sufferers find the stamina to continue with their virulent nit-picking squabbles is a mystery to me! I suspect that part of the problem is, by its extremely debilitating nature, this neurological ailment tends to breed a kind of re-active depression. Certainly, in my case, the onset of ME also found (or produced) a far more deep-rooted tetchiness than had been apparent as part my nature for the preceding decades.

Basically, I'm just a little pissed off and you, my dear readers, are the outflows recipients. This morning, my naggingly aching body, had to be forcibly removed from the duvet realm by a sheer effort of will. It seems like I'm almost back to normal.

Of Disparity and Separation

If the overall level of discomfort was greater, the whole situation would be easier to understand. It’s a rather strange sensation, even if not at all unfamiliar, to feel totally drained and tetchy, yet not at all tired. It has been one of those fidgety days for me, eager to get on with something yet not having the stamina to perform whatever task it may be.

Perhaps I’m suffering from shell-shock, having been separated from my beloved for more than 14 hours yesterday, whilst she attended a wedding in Northumberland!

We’re a couple of softies really, with a mutual dependence on each other’s presence; in the 8 ½ years since we were married, we’ve only spent three nights apart, two occasions when I was hospitalized overnight and once when Helen’s recently bereaved sister needed her company. It’s almost as if life goes into a tortuous state of suspended animation, when such separations occur!

For someone who had remained free from marital entanglement, until I had spent nearly five and a half decades on planet earth, it’s rather unnerving to have entered such a mutually dependent relationship but, neither of us feels complete without the other.

I’ve just realized, it sounds like I’m blaming marriage for my plight. That’s far from the reality; in fact, what I was hoping to express was the deleterious effect of separation! Similarly, the disparity between my desire to be active and the available resource of physical and emotional stamina could well be responsible for today’s sense of dis-ease.

The Morning After (the days before)

After yesterday’s bout of mat wrestling**, a fitful nights sleep is hotly pursued by an achingly battered and bruised Sinna Luvva’s emergence into the grey light of day. Lower limbs feel like they’re struggling through a vat of leaden sludge, and that’s simply the effort of releasing themselves from the duvet lair.

There’s no need to pinch me to check that I’m awake, rather than dreaming; every muscle and joint cries out to affirm the fact. I ache therefore I am.

At least every other day, for the past fortnight, has found yours truly engaged in performing some minor horticultural task. It’s quite surprising really, how much nurturing goes into the establishment and nurturing of the wildlife friendly area of the garden; even the transplanting of inappropriately self-rooted wildflowers, from cultivated to a more suitable site proves quite time and effort consuming.

On more than one occasion I’ve managed to overdo it; pacing isn’t quite as straightforward as I’d wish it to be. Although I recognize my limitations of physical and emotional stamina, it’s almost as if a little inner demon assures me that any perspirational endeavour that proves enjoyable can’t possibly have an ill effect.

Although I should know better, I still fall victim to the demon’s ploy. The spirit may be willing but, it’s the weakened flesh that pays the price. An increased tetchiness, and fog-befuddled thought processes, sits uncomfortably alongside the pains and aches that flesh is heir to.

*********************************

** for those readers who don’t follow / click on hyperlinks, I hasten to assure you that I have not taken up a new contact sport. The link is to my posting ‘The Heart Of The Matter’ on ‘Mal’s Murmurings’

you don't know how restless I made me

The day starts well, the curry I prepared last evening, and the specially prepared rice, is well up to standard. Mid-afternoon we venture out for a stroll around the block on a beautiful bright crisp day. Early evening, whilst setting up a couple of TV programmes to record I start having problems with the electronic programme guide and, rather than taking it in my stride, I start to become very tetchy. Suddenly, I’m feeling totally ill at ease with the world; an intense sense of frustration grabs me by the throat.

A total restlessness takes over and, to add to the troubles, the problems I was having with the aquarium lighting system (see second paragraph of ‘Stepping Out’, on Mal’s Murmurings) have intensified. Not only are the lights displaying a temperamental spasmodic dimming but, occasionally going out altogether. I’ve checked the fuses, even switched sockets but the same problems recur. Usually this would be a minor irritation; this evening the effect of this technical glitch seems almost traumatizing. I pace around, go out to the stable door to grab a nicotine fix, return briefly to the living room before stepping out again for a further fix, totally fazed by these inconsequential incidents.

Yesterday, we visited the DIY store to obtain some paint; about time I decorated the new ceiling, and the untiled areas of the wall, in the bathroom which have been crying out for attention for well over a year. A similar task remains in the kitchen; in this case four years on from the new damp course being installed four years ago. As Helen has the week off work, we felt it would be a good time to tackle these little decorating tasks. The fact that they’ve been neglected for so long reiterates to me just how lacking in stamina I’ve been for far too long. If only it was possible to forget that there was a time when I had energy, and an active lifestyle to go with it, perhaps my current frustration wouldn’t be so intense.

A Right Load of Bankers!

Firstly, I must concur with my beloved’s latest posting, to be found on ‘Bright Light’, about the pleasure we have in welcoming our friend Graham as a visitor and, how well he seems compared to the last time he visited. When he lived in Harrogate, he was our regular guest for Sunday Lunch and, we would always see him at least once more during the week. He accepts us as we accept him, warts and all. That is the nature of true friendship.

Helen’s blog then goes on to describe the unwanted services and benefits her bank attempted to sell her yesterday. It really is fortunate that they permit a cooling off period as I became most irate when I read the small print and the (unwittingly) hilarious* description of the review that had taken place. My anger as I devoured the finer details reached way beyond simmering point. My immediate reaction was of the order that, with corrupt capitalistic ventures pretending to offer a service whilst the shears with which they intend to fleece you remain behind their back make this a world unfit to live in. I am quite sad to report that I am a shareholder of this bank, dating back to the time after I voted against the de-mutualization of the building society.

It required a considerable amount of time for me to recover my usual life-affirming posture.

It seems about time that we acquired a more honest English vocabulary, one where the term “service provider” is replaced by “excessive profit maker” and the phrase “we’d like to offer you the benefits of ….,” could be replaced with “we’d like to get our hands on more of your money and, offer fools gold in return”!

It’s good to know that I can still be blessed with a degree of cynicism, as I boldly observe the amazing expansion of Thatcherite ideas under New Labour.

Follow this link, How Banks make money, to read Helens blog posting.

*hilarious only in its inaccuracy.

... and tired of journeying too!

Following on from my “tired of waiting” Freecycle experience, today’s late afternoon and early evening witnessed my tired of journeying mode. This morning, a delightful Kenyan-born lady arrived to collect the futon, which I’d advertised on ‘freecycle’. Unfortunately, it proved impossible to fit the component parts of the futon into her car so, when my beloved returned home around 3.30pm we decided to put the futon into the back of our car and, contacted the lady who had called this morning.

We obtained directions from the web before setting off on our journey to Keighley. There were stages of the journey where the travel instructions proved confusing and, the hold-up of the traffic through Otley had not been foreseen. We did eventually find Halifax Road in Keighley but, shortly before this, we realised that we had neither the address or telephone number of the potential recipient of our gift. We vaguely remembered the house number was something in the three hundreds but, found it impossible to keep tabs on the passing numbers. Even earlier in the journey, I’d struggled to overcome a panic attack and was suffering quite severe sensory overload from the lights of oncoming traffic.

Needless to say, I became increasingly stressed and, unwittingly, managed to transmit this sensation to ma belle chauffeuse. So, mission unaccomplished, we were homeward bound when the real fun began as we took a wrong turning which led us over Ilkley Moor, only I wasn’t “Baht ‘At” but, had rather rolled the brim of my thermal headpiece over eyes and ears to alleviate the aforementioned sensory overload. Eventually, as we approached Otley there was a diversion as no access to the town centre was permitted. Fortunately, the diversion led us onto a route with which my beloved was quite familiar and, we eventually arrived home some three and a quarter hours after our departure. I am a poor traveller at the best of times but …. I leave the rest to your imagination!

Repairing The Connection

Around 5.00PM the telephone rings once more; I like to think that the earlier caller heard my angry tirade (which was the intention) whilst my better half spoke to them and, lo and behold, it is Hotpoint calling once more. “The engineer will be back at work tomorrow, Thursday. Would you like him to call in the morning?” Unfortunately, as that could be any time from 8.00AM, I would hate to have my necessary bed-rest interrupted so, we settled for the previously arranged time of Friday afternoon! The call ended with an apology for “messing us about”. For the apology I am grateful.

I cannot take back what I said in the previous posting as, the sceptical side of me sees that they were just b…erring us about; it seems strange that the sole (formerly pronounced ‘sick’) duty engineer could fit us in as soon as tomorrow morning; what about those customers who’ve been missed out during his spell of sickness?

Yes, I do think that my angry background tirade was probably taken onboard!

Hotpoint Despair Connection Plan

It seems to me that one of the most foolish things these persons, ma belle et moi, have ever done was to take out insurance (Hotpoint Repair Protection Plan) on a HOTPOINT washing machine. Our machine needed a new thermostat within the first year, which should have been warning enough, whilst still under guarantee. A few weeks ago, having paid a few annual insurance premiums, currently in excess of £85 per annum, the tumble dryer stopped working. When we were eventually able to arrange an engineer's visit, he discovered that the cause was a broken control knob; he transferred the knob from the spin cycle control to the tumble dryer and, meanwhile placed an order for new knobs.

Next wash day, the wash cycle failed to work properly and, all the clothes came out wringing wet. We informed the company of this new development, so that the engineer, due to visit us this Friday to replace the control knobs, would be aware that he would also have to sort out the wash cycle.

This afternoon we had a ‘phone call from the company to postpone the engineer’s visit until Monday. The reason given was that the engineer was "off sick". When we asked if they only had the one engineer, they stated that the other two were on holiday.

So, we have a company, that charges extortionately to provide a repair service, permitting two-thirds of its workforce to take their holidays at the same time; it seems obvious, to me, that two-fingers to the customer is their modus-operandi. In the meantime, as a result of the engineer’s temporary repair, we are without a usable washing machine, worse off than before the repair.

The sooner a company like this goes under, I will be happy to waste my scarce energy/stamina reserves in a celebratory dance.

Thank-you HOTPOINT for your utterly crap customer service!

Give and Take

Not so long ago, I was privileged to be able to report positively on a large commercial concern; today, I return to the normal tetchy relation between Sinna Luvva and commerce. I post here an e-mail, submitted to the customer support team this afternoon via Dabs.com website. The automated response has allocated it the subject title of 'Catalogue price difference' which, bearing in mind the final paragraph (not highlighted in original e-mail) of my e-mail, serves only to irritate me further!

"HP Pavilion Media Center dv9088ea notebook
On your promotional e-mail, (rec'd. 6/10/2006 at 11.21PM), with free delivery on items over a certain value (£149) for this weekend, you advertised the HP Pavilion Media Center dv9088ea notebook at a price of £1149.99.

On following the links to your website, all the details refer to the XP Home edition for the higher price of £1217.99. Apart from assuming that this edition wouldn't have a digital TV tuner, I have no idea of discovering whether it even has the same graphic card as the advertised one, an overall package which was tempting to me - (in fact I was on the verge of making an impulse buy prior to noticing this discrepancy - I have previously been considering buying a replacement desktop PC of similar specifications).

Would it be possible to ensure the existence of items, at the prices advertised on your e-mail flyer, before mailing them out? I have noticed your disclaimer about discrepancy between 'Catalogue' prices and website but I would have thought that your most recent e-mail flyer wouldn't be subject to such discrepancies!"

e-mail to customer support team at Dabs.com

I look forward to the company's response and, may even feel motivated to supply a follow-up blog posting.

Having had my little moan, it's only fair to report that my previous transactions with Dabs.com have been most satisfactory experiences; so here I am giving back with one hand what the other has just taken away!

*************************************

PS A further posting for today, "Of Discourse and Distraction", can be found on Hirsute Antiquity.

Tetchy & Guilty

Today, I seem to be a really tetchy sod but, I suppose, bearing in mind last night’s restlessness, it’s only to be expected. Things rather came to a head when, nearly three hours after my beloved went out, for an Indian Head Massage, she still hadn’t returned home and, all sort of worries started to dominate my thoughts. Decided to ‘phone her but, her mobile was switched off so, come 5.25pm I ventured out for some nicotine sticks. Having purchased the comforters, a lady from the church I used to attend (in those dim-distant days when I could cope with such social events) enquired as to how I was. My response, “not brilliant”, was snapped out in a rather off-hand manner and, I couldn’t be bothered to hang around to amplify or apologize for my curtness. Of course, the normal social understanding of such enquiries is that the enquirer doesn’t really want to know!

By the time I got back in the house I started to feel guilty for being so rude. Forgot to mention, I encountered my beloved whilst on my way to the shop and my ‘greeting’ was rather sharp … a result of concern and frustration … so; I suppose an enquiry as to my health was the proverbial final straw!

Now, I begin to feel guilty because I don’t feel at all well! Perhaps it’s no point waiting for the effects of my most recent acupuncture session to ‘kick-in’ and, I should accept that, on this occasion, the effect is purely negative.

Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

Actually managed to surface into the new day shortly after 9.30AM, having been totally wide awake between 3.00 and 5.30AM. It's strange how ones body clock likes to mess around with one's anticipated patterns, no matter how normal that expectation may be. Today has been the start of the second phase in my reduction of the Venlafaxine and, hopefully in a further few days I will begin taking the replacement medication. What difference it will make remains to be seen.

The hope is that the change of medication may help me overcome my extremely short-fused temper. As long as it doesn't affect the rest of my wonderful personality that's fine with me. It really would be terrible if it interfered with my natural modesty!

It really is strange being a real people person but, currently unable to cope with more than one or two of them at any one time; at the same time, I'm quite ready to verbally demolish any cold-callers who dare ignore the notices regarding their undesirability! I have never suffered fools gladly but, it's the really clever ones who are the biggest arse-ache.

Apart from that, my message is always ... peace, hope and love!

Denouncing And Announcing

'Phone calls disturbing the thought-flow, an unresolved problem with the pond-pump, an inability to find a required item ..... nothing major there but, yesterday morning it certainly sent me off into an angry tirade of metaphysical proportions. If in doubt, blame God ... whoa there, if in doubt it's questionable whether there's owt there to blame!

Anyway having dismissed the thought god (or the Thought God, or the thought "God"), what's left to rail against. If the doubt is meaningful enough turn it on oneself but, that's hardly likely to make one feel better.

So, what do I settle for; I denounce God but I've already (by this time) ackowledged that there is no existent object or subject responding to this name! The strange thing is, belief has never been a strong point of mine, it's always faith that grasps me.

Jesus shows us his understanding of (his) God's nature. This understanding leads him to care for the downtrodden and the outcast which, in its turn leads to resistance from the religious authorities as well as the imperialist Roman occupation forces. When he's executed by the imperial and religious authorities he leaves a lot of dispirited followers; I'm frequently dispirited when I see the collusion between conservative evangelicals and murderous gits like George Dubya but, I do know that something known as resurrection occurred and a core group of followers had the courage to live communistically and declare themselves as his followers. They proclaimed GOOD NEWS TO THE POOR.

When Jesus died, the end had occurred ... an end to complacency and an urgent demand to build the Republic of God here on earth. It is my hope against hope that one day the peacemakers
will overcome.

Anyway, to get back to the here and now; a post-lunch nap (following another of my succesful culinary inventions) helped to restore a little emotional energy/balance. The question of God's existence is not even on the agenda. I have Faith!

Don't Bring Me Down ... I Can Do It By Myself

Lying in bed this morning, I was surprised to hear my local parliamentary constituency referred to in the news bulletin on BBC national radio. It was simply a reference to Tory deception attempts with reference to our local health authority. I suppose anyone remembering the Thatcher era, and Howard the Thought Vampire's role in it, realize that dirty tricks will be needed as Blair's Crew have stolen most of the Iron Lady's clothes.

Anyway, I didn't let this get me down but remained on my contentment plateau. Should have known it was too good to last and, the fall ocurred mid to late afternoon. The prompt for this decline, that the pond pump had once again ceased-up; reset the trip switch to no avail so obviously more drastic measures are called for. Retrieved pump from its position in the pond, removed the clip and casing and cleaned it down with a hose to remove algae residues etc. Switched the pump back on and immediately a trickle of water flowed but, this trailed away to nothingness within a very short time. The trip-switch constantly tripped ... suppose that's what they're for ... but why. The pump itself is new this season but we never had this problem with the trip switch on the old pump; it did start tripping slightly more after some "handymen" altered the siting of the said switch but it didn't help simply to curse them.

For some reason I let this little episode bring me down. I suppose I've just got to admit I'm not as well as I'd like to be, now let's see .....

Proton-pump inhibitors are performing quite well but, the rhinitis treatment seems to have gone in reverse, anti-depressants ...?; my throat still has the same problem although I understood it was supposed to improve as I stopped regurgitating acid! Exhaustion factor; on this front the last couple have days have seen a slight improvement.

I'm even starting to feel guilty about not feeling well; suppose I should become a Tory, as in my view they're all sick, I should at least feel at home amongst them!

The Veneer Cracks

My emotions are extremely close to the surface today, anger and tears most closely aligned. Tactless persons trying to push their merchandise in one's own time and space [see ALIEN INTRUSIONS], inept workmen (of whom we've had a surfeit in recent months), and coping with and supporting others with problems, do not always sit well alongside my post-viral depressive condition!

The protestant work ethic has a lot to answer for too! I constantly feel guilty that I am unable to tackle many little tasks, both around the house and elsewhere; sometimes its the spirit but more often the flesh that proves unwilling!

Currently, I'm sat in front of the computer, awaiting a call from the Doctors Surgery, having realised I am perhaps even less well than I thought I knew!

Wet, Windy and a little Wild!

An intermittently wet and windy day seems an adequate symbol of some of today's events [see "The TV Saga absurdly concluded" on 'Broad Thoughts From Heterocon']. Fortunately I was able to leave the house for my BBW (brief brisk walk) in the afternoon after Helen had returned from shopping and a visit to the gym. Before setting out for my 39 minutes airing, I prepared a char-grilled Salmon & Peppers jacket potato filling, for our lunch.

Without the BBW, the Supreme Being alone knows where my temper would have led me. Once the anger-flow starts the pettiest little thing triggers a further response! Whilst one school of thought seems to think it's good "to let it all out", my GP assures me that its not at all good for my health.

The Bush bop bag proved useful to release tension but, it keeps letting itself down (i.e deflating) unlike the real thing that keeps puffing itself up, as some kind of divine agent!

Mundane Musings

It's just been one of those de-energised days, where one simply looks for fresh, non-physically active nor mentally demanding, distractions to escape the urge to nod off. That usually means attempting to catch up with e-mails, play about with a few graphics programmes and, perhaps not so unusually, looking for something to nibble.

Is this de-energised feel, and the longing for nibbles, part of a general malaise or a belated aftermath of quitting smoking some months ago! The fact that these almost lethargic states were part of me before the 'cold turkey' seems to suggest the former, as does the resumption of night-sweats etc.

The proton pump inhibitors seem to be doing a reasonable job of preventing any major reflux but, I still find myself being sparked off into 'acidic' bursts of anger with little provocation. On second thoughts, incompetent businesses (especially when they try to rip me off, or drag their feet), conservative middle-class attitudes and values etc. .., perhaps aren't such "little" provocations!

Hopefully, the generous and caring me still lurks quite close to this more caustic veneer!

PS (12.07 am - 6 April 2005) Some of this may seem familiar if you have visited Heterocon's Blog. The entry above ["If You're Reading This ..."] refers to the failure of the FTP server. In spite of a reported error I later found this item had published; meantime some of its gist had been posted elsewhere (under the misapprehension that this was a "lost" text).