Antsy

So, if I had any powerpoint-meets-quant skills, this blog post would be beautifully represented in a multi-coloured, perfect Pie chart. Although, if it was, it might then be in danger of being eaten by me, like everything else in this world, so perhaps all the better that I'm going to have to do it in plain old Word.

I feel Antsy at the moment. Weirdly antsy.

And I'm not quite sure I can put my finger on why.

You know those days when your fingertips sort of curl and flex sponteously, like there's a cosmic itch somewhere that they're meant to scratch but they can't quite make contact with it? And somehow if you wiggle and bend and poke into thin air, it might actually improve it? Have tried all manner of hand waggling, and it doesn't.

And when you pout and nose wrinkle more than the average – not just in response to a crappy work request or a particularly malodorous niff from the toilet (such bad news, being near one of the 'Poo Loos' at work)… but more in a weird way of trying to identify / sniff out / ward off something … wrong… in the ether.

Still not sure what it is that's making me antsy but I think the contenders are:

1. Our dirty house. The OCD part of me has been very patient so far (9 weeks of builder grot and being displaced to the upstairs filthpot, but still at least 6 more weeks to go) – and I think my 'I can handle this for a bit' attitude is running through the top sandy half of the egg timer faster than the boys downstairs are completing the task…..Whatever Persil say, Dirt Isn't Good.

2. The Fact I Am A Fat Cow: I just cannot get a grip on losing weight and in contrast seem to be virtually inhaling anything with excess calories, with inverse self-control. OK, so the house is a pit and the kitchen's not there, which ain't helping, but what is wrong with my brain? Some poor wiring currently underway which needs fixin' as I have 30 pairs of trousers and can't get into any of them, unless Cathy comes over to sew some together. (And it ain't like the road to Chrismas is a low fat /booze one!)

3. The Endless 'When's It Coming' Feeling: Yes this one had to be on the list somewhere and I don't know where to put it. So third place seemed as good as anywhere else. It's tough living in this vacuum of 'what's happening?' 'When's it going to be back for real?' 'can I even think about doing fun stuff next summer or am I totally kidding myself?', 'how fucking hard is it going to be when it does become a reailty again?'. 'Will I cope?' 'what will happen then?' I am eternally grateful for this extended and desperately enjoed good time and it sucks that I can't shake the impending MM smell from under my nose, even for a day. Just today had the Pension woman in at work (which I'd stopped paying into, for pretty obvious reasons) and had to sort something small out with her – I couldn't even lift my eyes from the table and was grunting like Kevin the bloody Teenager when she perfectly nicely  asked 'how are you'…. just can't bear to engage with it, talk about it, believe it – and couldn't get out of there fast enough.

4. Jobs and more Jobs: Seem permanently buried in Chores and it's like wading through treacle. Maybe a bit of that is needing to do more for Mum, about a day a week, and I feel crap for even recognsing this as it sounds like I mind, when of course it's the right thing to do. But time is SO SO precious. And while I love Mum to bits and would do anything for her, these days its a bit of a one-way-traffic relationship, as she's not so good. For the first time, she forgot my birthday this year. Did I already blog that? Well, whatever, she did and you just have to shrug it off, its her dementia, no more, but still a shame.

5. Winter's Here: Crap because it's getting colder / wetter / darker but also because its nearly January – and that'll be three whole years since my Transplant. If time was running out up till now, it's practically bloody Usain Bolt-ing it in the wrong direction now. STOP you fucker, or at least slow down… please. Who doesn't want to wish Winter away and fast-forward to Spring, but time doesn't work that way for me any more and I feel a bit consigned to winter more than normal

So – imagine that Pie chart and assign your own view on size of chunks to each of these five, and you'll probably be more right than I am in my own mind about which one is keeping me, my pingly fingers and pouty chops in perma REM the most..

Things are fine, so don't go worrying, and the Antsy-ness will hopefully get washed away in a sea of brine as H and I go surfing this weekend. Either that or buried under the 3 cooked breakfasts I can see on the horizon… Cereal and fruit my arse, Llawnroc Hotel here we come!

Sx