I’m like a headless chicken that just can’t stop running around, at the moment. My Monica-style organisational obsessions are in full swing.
Yesterday I sprayed that Mr Muscle stuff into the oven and a few hours later it had morphed into this disgusting mess that looks like the spawn of some freaky bog creature!!
This morning I made bread, flapjacks, bolognese, mung bean chilli and soup. I really don’t know how I did all that.
I wish I had something else to write about, I really do. I like myself better when I’m living on a deeper level, a thinking level. I have all these lurking ideas just waiting for a chance to germinate into thought. I just don’t know how to change gear and slow down. Because I know that I will probably crash and burn.
I have to go to work tomorrow and work hard… work is one place that I often have the chance – and am encouraged – to indulge in thought and imagination, but not right now – right now it has to be structured, and considered, and planned, and ordered, and regimented.
I feel so arid.
It’s that I don’t deal well with pressure; I react to it like this – trying frantically to get things ticked off well ahead so I can feel better. I can’t exist comfortably with stuff to be done. It’s like an itch I have to scratch. But the list never goes down to zero. I will have to try and find the stop button, somehow. Even if it means I have a couple of crap days. If I don’t get as much done at work as I wanted in the end, I will just put it into the “future work” section of the report.