bunt sign

Friday, March 16, 2001

Yesterday was one of the weirdest days I can remember. Nothing happened (that I know of) to make it that way, but for some reason I felt like a stranger in my own skin. Every thought in my head rattled around like a marble in a bathtub. Whenever I tried to do something, it seemed so much harder than it should be that it wasn't even worth the effort.

It should have been a good day, because I had time on my hands. I had time to get caught up on the work I've been putting aside to get through the big project. Now that the project was complete, I had no reason not to catch up on these other tasks. No reason except my mind was so out of tune I didn't recognize myself.

At one point I even told myself that it was a great chance to get caught up on my filing. There isn't that much to it, except that it takes a little time and a little (very little) concentration. I walked to the file cabinet, saw the stack of invoices and other papers, and decided I just couldn't do it. And if I couldn't do that, what chance was there that I could do something more demanding?

I thought I was losing it. I didn't define it any more specifically than that, because I was afraid of what I might decide the real problem was. I don't even want to think about that now.

Besides, it all seems like a hazy dream today. I'm not back to full steam, by any means, but I did have more energy and focus. I'm still tired. I fell asleep early on the couch last night, and I overslept this morning, and I'm still thinking I could collapse at any moment. I'm achy all over, and that has me worried (which is part of my whole attitude problem).

The answer seemed to be to stay busy all day, and I managed to do that, without any help from outside sources asking for a piece of me. I did some good work today, important only in the context of keeping the company running, but it's work I'm proud to claim. That's made all the difference in my outlook.

It seems I'm always either dreading or embracing the next moment in time, instead of just letting it happen and guiding myself through it. I have these occasional random meltdowns, but I always get through them and come out of them stronger (for awhile, at least). I don't know what tomorrow will bring, or if I'll be ready for it. All I can do is try to be ready to get ready.

Lately I've noted another change that has me looking at myself as a different person. I've always been an indoor person, and more of a watcher than a doer, but these days I can't wait for the work day to end so that I can get outside and work in the yard.

That's so unlike me I can't even think where it came from, but it's a change I'm happy with. In the long run, it might even help keep my mind from imploding at semi-regular intervals. Fresh air and physical activity. Who dreamed up that cure for the blues?

Besides trimming back the wisteria, I had a more solemn duty today. I had to break a little bird's heart. The black phoebes that have been flitting around the peak of my roof were getting a little too cozy there. I found the beginnings of a nest, just under the eaves, and I had to take action before it went any further.

There are trees and outbuildings and fences and hedges and all manner of more appropriate nesting places, and I'm sure these birds will find one they like more than the spot just outside my window. They'll have to, because I took the old garden hose that's been gathering mold next to the porch all winter and connected the nozzle (set to "spray"). Then I took out the renegade headquarters with a few well-placed bursts of water.

No guilt. But payback, in a way. Instant karma. The old hose had so many holes in it that it soaked the wooden porch, and my Levi's, before I was done. I was lucky not to get any water in the house, but I was pretty well drenched. And the birds have been sitting on fence posts shaming me ever since. "Tsk, tsk." That's exactly what it sounds like.

This is the view of the house and garage I have from the end of my driveway.

looking down the lane

It's apparently too long a drive for the new mailman. He left a slip in my box that the package I'm expecting can be picked up at the post office Monday. Well, thanks, but didn't you use to knock on people's doors before leaving a note that says "sorry we missed you"? Sheesh.

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