Michaelmass

[smokingboot]

Something feels really wrong this morning. I can't describe it; I am up far too early, cats waking me at about 3.40 am, unusually rubbish even for them. Yesterday was full of little nothings that pulled my mood down, odd really as it was very much a day for exercise, five miles and a bit of swimming. Aren't these things meant to give you endorphins or at least, I don't know, divert you from mauling morons on the internet? My appointment with the healthcare person was re-scheduled; not a problem as in any case I fail to see what the appointment is for. High cholesterol? Fine, I'll eat fewer eggs. Do we really need to sit down over a cup of tea to discuss this? I am between sections of work and should be making the best of it, refreshing my mind, preparing, researching. But that is not what is happening.

My mum has been sleeping more over the past couple of days which isn't necessarily bad, but can too easily be a symptom. I am not overly worried, but... the anniversary of my father's death looms. And then a friend posted up some music he made from long ago, when a whole bunch of us used to hang out together and while the music was pleasant, it brought me right back to an instant in time, some dire memories.

I wanted to say something, the equivalent of crying out, but it remains something hard to write or talk on. It's a ghost wound, not real, and certainly not worth a spill over good music and nostalgia.

Today is the Feast of St Michael. There are worse times to lay demons low I guess; today I'll listen to other music, force sorrow out of my head. It'll work, that and sleep.