Woke up yesterday morning feeling blissful after my Sunday evening out. The kind of blissful where you know you don't even want to open your eyes, because whatever happens out there would ruin it. Baby bliss, I guess is what it is, and for that I suppose I have to thank my parents for a safe and suitably provided babyhood.
Well, the day went on okay, until I tried to use Mark's number that I had recorded into my mobile, only to find that I had missed out a digit somewhere. How useless am I? Those buttons on a Nokia are for cybertwits, not for disorganised incompetents as me. You can't hear their confirming beeps over the DJ's loud music. How am I ever going to have friends that I click with on my level, if I can't even get this right? Oh well, so I'll have to live with myself, myself, and only myself. Wow, that's at least three of us, how kinky!
Of course, a bike ride, dancing, and drinking take its toll at my age, and the pain to be paid for the pleasure only reaches its peak 24 hours after. I should expect this by now, which is why I might as well write about it so that I'll remember to expect it next time. So this morning, I had a nightmare, quite a sophisticated one, and when I awoke, I felt awful, with a bit of a sore throat threatening as well. And as usual, after an hour, it becomes apparent to me that my body is aching and complaining and muscles are stiff tight and sore in a way that I had not been aware of yesterday. Hence the nightmare. I'm such an animal.
Oh give me a sauna. There's something I would have if I were rich. My own, personal wooden sauna hut with attached outdoor jacuzzi under conservatory glass, in a small gentle valley and bunny rabbits hopping around in view. It's not just the Beckhams that need one, just because he gets paid for physical exertion.
Chatting to a very bright and suburban woman around my own age at Queeruption brought me some validation that was worth a million half-witted counsellors (ahem..). I was telling her how I feel more relieved than in 3 years, now that my Dad finally died, and she was saying that was exactly what happened to her when she lost her father a few years ago to cancer. As she said, "it's as though you've got your whole life on HOLD, just waiting for it to happen". Oh she is very cheerful and bright this one, and as she pointed out, now her Mom is getting seriously ill. Well, I wondered, will it be easier this time? Not entirely, says she, because she's had to contemplate what it is like to become an orphan!
I always try to anticipate these things and then imagine them in the hope of being prepared for when they happen. That's how I do things, it's not necessarily the best way. So the orphan reference also hit home. I've been very aware of it. And I figure it's an essential part of growing up. Everyone, eventually, has to get orphaned, unless they die before their parents do. You can imagine it before it actually happens, and even act it out (eg kids who run away from home and start up their own lives on the street), but only when the real orphaning becomes imminent, can you ascertain whether your imagination has been accurate and comprehensive.
Enough talking for me, my sore throat means that I have to cut short this speaking engagement. Good evening, and please remember to keep on laughing, and attending charity balls. After all, the richest people seem to do nothing but.