becalmed

Even the word becalmed carries an implication that it was something you did... some kind of bad luck you can reverse - or not - too late, maybe, the gods are angry.

It's the first beautiful summer weekend in months and months, and everyone is out. I'm in here, again, still, by myself, as always these days - which I'm finding can tend to de-concentrate the mind, oddly, because nothing then matters very much, does it, it's all a sort of grey mush - thinking I should be writing, but somehow not writing. I cleaned the kitchen. Did the dishes. Wore myself out mopping; made two phone calls, had a bath, got dressed, had some lunch.

Meeting a friend in three hours.

Yesterday wanted to work, write, do something, but ended up watching a Jimmy Stewart western called Winchester '73 and - really - loving it. That I'm not complaining about!

But I'm becalmed. I used that yesterday to sort through lots of papers and books. The papers are more sorted than they were but it was a desultory afternoon's work. (I was happy, though: it was the first proper afternoon's work I've achieved in weeks. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm just going to be like this forever, now.)

And I'm off to the States in three weeks! Less than. Dear me. This is a bit sudden, but must be done, and there are complicated logistics to be simplified now across much of the tri-state area. I think the answer will involve good old Peter Pan and Adirondack Trailways... it only feels complicated if you let it.

Anyway, for now I think I'm probably becalmed with a Vitamin D deficiency! So skates, I mean Havaianas, on - I'm off into the sunshine with my books & laptop. I'll take the recycling out on the way, what I can carry anyway.