Some days, I just KNOW it’s not gonna happen. It was like that this morning, as I lay flat on my face in the kitchen having tripped over my own feet. However hard you try, it just doesn’t work. Things that normally provide pleasure taste odd, or simply aren’t as intense as you expect. There’s pain where there shouldn’t be. It’s like the centimetre long piece of bark that was in my protein bar over there that came close to breaking a tooth. I’m looking at it now and wondering if I write a letter to the company who made it and make a lame ‘bark was worse for my bite’ gag whether I’ll get anything from it except the understanding that occasionally, you don’t win.
You have to do the shit days in to make the great ones better.
Someone’s stolen the recycling bin from outside the front door, but left the larger paper bin well alone. I’ve not yet been paid for last month’s work. There’s this distinct and inescapable sense that the day never had a chance to be great to begin with, that I was doomed to failure from the moment I staggered out of bed. It started last night, if truth be told, and things have just not improved from that point onward. It is even an effort to type right now and I have to keep looking up because I’m not confident I’m even spelling words correctly.
My brain appears to have been unsettled by something. I wish I knew what it is.