Most immediately one of those baths that you can't get out of. You know what I mean, don't you? Not that the bath is so wonderful, and you are so blissfully afloat that you don't want to ever leave, but rather than something in the difference between the air and water temperature keeps you riven to the base of the bath, slightly chilly, but not as chilly as you would be if you got out. There is, of course, no more hot water to sort this quandary out. You just have to lie there until the air temperature is preferable. That kind of bath.
Earlier, there was the good old, traditional 5am panic attack. Despite the potentially anxiety inducing events of the last six months or so, I seem to have been oddly insulated from outbreaks of panic. I have been all luxe, calme et gin. But some kind of massive reality check hit me in the early hours of this morning, and suddenly and mysteriously wide awake, my brain went into meltdown in the time honoured small hours fashion. It went something like "OHMYFUCKINGGOD I have written nothing since November I barely earn enough to cover the rent the economy is down the plughole and I want to break into an industry that is teetering on the brink of total collapse why did I buy more underwear yesterday and I still don't have a valid ID card all I do is dick around on the internet all day oh god oh god oh god". It was longer and more repetitive than this but you get the general picture. It has subsided to a tight chest in the course of the day with occasional spells of vertigo. It has however kicked my ass into actually doing something about my manuscript, or 'heap of coffee stained pages'. I have finally beaten Chapter 6 into submission. Chapter 7, do not sit there looking so smug with your butter stains from my mid-afternoon crumpet mountain. I am coming for you next, even though I have absolutely no idea what you are about any more.
A long, cold - though also sunny and beautiful - walk with weepette during which at one point Oscar fell through thin ice into a freezing pond. Pauvre weepette. I have rarely seen anything look quite so cold, bedraggled and defeated. Ah, bony one, sometimes life reserves the most appalling surprises. I thought I should try and embrace dog walking as, like, a positive experience rather than something to be endured (Knee of Death, remember). So with a sexy as hell self-adhesive anti-inflammatory patch stuck to the Knee of Death, I gave it a try (along with occasional blog commenter Fran). So far so good, I have not ballooned up to pumpkin proportions and it only took about 2 hours and 4 crumpets to regain feeling in my limbs. My brain took a little longer.
So. There's no post tonight. Sorry. Here, have a mournful dog photo:
This was right before I cruelly Febrezed his chair, thereby making his day exponentially worse.