I’ve had a bad few days. I am going away for a few days on Sunday, so have been working flat out to make a couple of deadlines and can’t really think about anything else. Something I am constantly reminded of at home.
My first mental blip was missing a much-looked-forward-to and overdue catch-up with a friend. She waited for twenty minutes for me to rock up before she rang and I was hunched up and goggle-eyed staring into my laptop screen. Why? Because I had put our meeting in my diary for the wrong day.
At least I knew I had an appointment to have my hair cut this morning, but I had put it in the diary for an hour later than it was supposed to be. My hairdresser rang me and, again, I was slumped over my laptop. Fortunately, she was very understanding and cut my hair after I managed to get myself there in under fifteen minutes. Maybe now my fringe has been cut, I can more clearly see where I’m supposed to be going.
I could log these brain farts as senior moments, but my oldest friends will tell you I’ve always been away with the fairies. So there is little hope for me now.
Perhaps, constantly sweating over creating new plotlines, means I am beginning to lose my own?
I think a break will do me good.