Winding Down

I can still feel the anxiety of work. And now I don’t actually have work to worry about, I can feel the residual anxiety more acutely. It is a weird feeling. You know, the moments of brain activity after death. All I am left with is stress for no apparent reason. It makes me realise the level of work stress I must live with all the time. Clearly, work is bad for us.

Still, it is the most glorious fucking day outside, just as it was yesterday. Makes me think that every thing is right with the world, that my life choices, the universe, whatever fucking god you want to blame, The Great Pumpkin, my fairy god mother, serendipity, okay not serendipity, (I just like that word, like discombobulate, or flabbergasted, or pithy) whatever nonsense that gets you through, must be on my side. Smiling at my choices? Gazing at me kindly. Waving the hand of, um, er, approval, comfort? (Oh Jasus, I thought I was above this shit. Maybe, I'm delirious? Thankfully, time off has got to me just in time)

So why doesn't it feel real yet? (That's just life, I guess)

It will, I guess. (Winding down is a bitch)

It's just the learned behaviour which is hanging on, like muscle memory, or Déjà vu. Even recurring nightmares. The things that you don't know that you don't know that you don't know, until you know, when they catch you when you least expect them to, and it all becomes clear. (Does life ever really all become clear?)

I take the dogs for a walk. Is there a sweeter creature in the world? I think not. My lovely boys. Just spend time with them, and all this other shit just fades away. And the morning sun on my face, that is real too.