When it rains, it pours. And I’m not just referring to the weather.
The number of things I have to turn in this week is almost overwhelming. I’ve done it plenty of times before, but for some reason, it’s extra daunting this week. Maybe it’s because there are too many events piled into one week, like a pile-up on the highway. Maybe it’s the weather, which is a well-documented cause of laziness.
For the last few weeks, I’m barely keeping up with my book reviews. I just finished Wilbur Smith’s “Warlock”, which I wanted to savour until I realised that it’s Sunday. I have a book column due and this is the only book I’m reading this week.
I miss reading for pleasure.
I’ve had more than five people pounce on me over the weekend going “Where have you been?” I haven’t been far, but there are just certain places or events that I don’t go to any more because circumstances changed and it hasn’t taken me into the paths of these people.
And I can’t really answer their question any more than I can answer the one a new friend asked me – “What do you do outside of work?”
I don’t know. My hobbies have either become my work or overlapped into work, and the dividing line between the two blurred a long time ago.
I gave it some thought and realised that my problem is that I’m tired of life. Not in the “goodbye cruel world *sever carotid artery*” sense. More in the sense of needing the world to stop for a moment so I can figure out what to do next.
But much like blood gushing from a severed carotid artery, the world isn’t going to stop and wait for me to catch up. I’ve been bobbing along in the tide with only one thought of survival in my head – keep head above water.
Some days I get tired of doing that too.