Saturday, 27 August 2011

Frustrating Friday

So, I'm sat here in my pants wondering what the hell was the point of yesterday.

I got up a bit later than I normally do so felt a bit groggy. In the past I have spent days on end in bed only getting up for bodily functions and a bit of food - that's when the Black Dog was really giving me a bad time but recently I have found that I can't stay in bed after I've woken up as it causes horrible headaches. This is a good thing.

I procrastinated for a few hours on Twitter before I finally went into town to pick up my parcel. I went in the usual door to pick it up. I was first in line but had to wait about 5 minutes for the postman to finish a phone call apologising for some Royal Mail cock up or other. He looked at my card (which I remembered to bring this time. Yay me.) and said 'Oh, you can pick that up from the main post office.'

The system had changed.

Off I toddled to join a queue. When it was my turn 'cashier number two please' disappeared to fetch my parcel from behind the scenes. I have no doubt in my mind that she got it from the same room I was in earlier as that is where all undelivered items end up. Why couldn't the first postman have got it? He was in the same room as the parcel and that is the way it always used to be.

After that I popped round to a friend's house and a had chat for a while then went home. After some food I figured that I should crack on with some work but, again, I got caught up on Twitter and decided work could wait. It got to 6:30pm when I suddenly felt extremely tired and bored and pissed-off. So I went to bed.

I surfaced again at 11:00pm feeling hungry and not at all refreshed. Food and more Twitter followed along with some TV. What a waste of a fucking day. This kind of thing happens all the time and I am totally fed up with it. I always take the easy option and sit in front of the computer because it is just too much effort to do anything else.

I'm turning into a right old fatty. I eat as if I worked hard all day like someone with a real job. Must get more exercise - even going out for a walk everyday would help and not only with physical health but mental health as well. Last summer there was a day when I woke up at about 6am and felt fantastic. I couldn't wait to start the day - I literally leapt out of bed and thought 'I'm going for a walk'. I plotted out a five mile loop and I was on my way. It was glorious. The birds were singing and the quality of light was just beautiful. The rest of the day went well and I got a lot done.

For the rest of the week I was up and out on a different walk and really enjoying it. I walk with friends on Saturdays and by the end of the day I had racked up over 30 miles that week. I didn't go out on Sunday but was looking forward to Monday.

Fucking hell. What was wrong? Monday morning came and all I wanted to do was die.

It felt like I was buried alive - tons of earth pressing on my head but I wasn't suffocating: I was going to be there for an eternity struggling to scratch my way out and not knowing if there was a foot of earth above me or a mile. It makes me shudder even now to remember how that felt. I stayed in bed for about two or three weeks avoiding contact with everyone. Just the thought of speaking on the phone made me feel panicky.

Yes, yesterday was a bit shit to make me think of that again. Saturday needed to be a much better day. I was damn well going to make sure it was.

Here are the highlights of yesterday's browsing history:

Piers Morgan Is A Dick To Penn Jillette via @robinince:

It's the Friday Puzzle! via @RichardWiseman:

Nervous system articulation of a prosthetic hand via @element14:

Bountiful Books: 13 Incredibly Intricate Historic Libraries via @RichardWiseman:

Promenading on BBC2 via @timminchin:

Wonderputt via @pcpro:

Bloodhound Bottle Rockets - Bang Goes The Theory - BBC One via @bbcbang

Marco Tempest: The magic of truth and lies (and iPods) via @UKSKEPTICS:

I think I'll put some clothes on now.

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