Coming back down to a different level
While my recent blog posts have been somewhat wordy and well structured, I can promise you now that this one will be of the less articulate variety.
I am feeling odd. I have spent my day in pursuit of simple things such as colouring in, drawing, baking cakes, walking dogs and drinking coffee. Watching Game of Thrones season 4 (much later than everyone else so no spoilers please) and sending e-mails also took up some time. I cannot complain nor indicate that my day has been anything other than simple and enjoyable, as a Saturday should be.
And yet I am left with a resounding feeling of disquiet. There is something fidgeting deep within my mind and I can neither identify it nor request it to chill the fuck out. If sleeping on it doesn’t help, I may have to go digging.
Not literally though of course. That would achieve nothing and besides, my hand still hurts. There must have been a fracture, even if it was only a small one. Because 18 days later I still cannot twist it in certain ways, nor carry anything particularly heavy, or grip very firmly or manipulate my pinky finger beyond a certain point. I can, however, now brush my teeth and hair without crying, and cut up my food at meal times. Hurrah.
I hope very much that I will be able to shake this mildly unpleasant cloud looming over me. Maybe tomorrow will do it. Tomorrow I go to the college to act as a groom for my lovely friend Niz. She is competing in the college-run dressage league and tomorrow she is riding the ever unpredictable Fox. He is not a dressage horse, as we all well know, but there is some chance that Niz may be able to show him off in his best light. I shall be there for moral support, to take photos, assist her in grooming and tacking up, and provide cake as reward once the ordeal is over. All important attributes of any good groom. Particularly the cake part, I feel. I know many others who will attest to that.
I shall leave you now and take my nonsensical malaise to bed with me.