I was just stretching luxuriously in bed, thinking I would get up in a moment or two since I was feeling so uncommonly refreshed, when The General told me it was 1 am.
He then promptly went back to sleep.
After trying everything I could (and feeling guilty for disturbing the cat, who was cuddling with me in a perfect donut-shape) I decided to get up and try to make the best use of the time, safe in the knowledge that I would be wrecked by lunchtime and feeling/looking like a zombie.
Creeping about an old house without making a sound is an art form and I zig-zagged my way down the hardwood stairs, with Dresden following dutifully behind (I never realized that cats do actually frown) and then, once installed on the main floor, I decided to bake the cake for my niece’s birthday this week. After a while, the cat decided it was obviously just a really, really early start to the day and demanded breakfast (kedgeree, broiled kidneys, lightly coddled eggs but settled for FancyFeast in the end) before trying to make his usual routine fit, which to be honest, is just a quick wash and then more sleep, although at least he wanted to be in the same room as me.
And I appreciate that support.
It’s nearly the middle of April and I am desperate, desperate for spring. I pace around the house looking at projects I want to get going on, corners I would like to scrub out with a toothbrush (yes, it’s come to this!) and the Pantry-of-Shame which is overflowing with partially full boxes of crackers, raisins from seven years ago and an unattractive waterfall of plastic bags. Every time I open the door I am ashamed and antsy to tackle it but when the weekend unfurls and time presents itself, I become strangely busy with other things and cannot bear the thought of committing an entire day to those little screws of paper with three pieces of macaroni in each one, gack …
I’m also watching the same pattern of promising myself, really hard, oath-taking promises here to do something (exercise; eat better; clean out the effing pantry) and then I watch myself not following-up.
This is not like me to procrastinate like this (or, is it) and I’ve become extremely frustrated with myself.
If you have been reading this blog regularly I apologize for the abject misery I’ve been pumping out.
I’m just starting to emerge from a funk-of-no-name, the kind of misery that makes you feel desperate but you are not sure why : there have been a few things of course, not the least of which was the sudden and shocking death of one of my young, sweet Siamese cats. Her brother has been grieving loudly and hourly since, making those dark sonorous chest yowls usually associated with Tibetan monks. It’s a chilling heart-breaking sound and cannot be stopped with food or entreaties from those around him.
I will write about The Willow Cat in a later post but for now, it’s still too fresh.
Anyway how to pull out of a funk when one wakes up with tears in one’s eyes wondering how to get through the day?
No quick answers here but a visit to my past and recalling which (small) things have cheered me before is always helpful and a good starting point.