annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary
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Feb 3rd
Better. I had acupuncture this morning, followed by yoga at the Buddhist Centre so I wore my yoga pants to acupuncture. I came out feeling totally zonked - no way on earth I could do anything other than come straight home and go to bed. I woke up at 5.30! It was dark! Bloody hell - I was tired - I'd slept for going on 7 hours last night and now another five.
I feel a bit sad about missing yoga. I haven't been to this class for ages, but it's all OK. It will still be there when I'm ready for it.
Since waking up I've done a sea painting, quick before I forgot how to do the waves again:
Started watching Next in Fashion on Netflix - it turns out they make billions in the UK and pay no fucking tax - why are these people so greedy? How much money do they want and why can't they pay up and let the decencies of civilisation be funded properly? Cunts.
I ate this (Bloke cooked it):
Far more delicious than it had any right to be - the recipe's in here, though she witters on a lot before she gets to it: https://www.theguardian.com/food/2020/feb/03/rachel-roddy-recipe-lentils-potato-greens-sausage
And I mended my sun visor for the 64 million artists challenge which has now moved from daily to weekly and has set "Repair Shop" as the first theme, for us to interpret how we like. I'm thinking of doing a small repair every day if I can. The flip flops went to land fill (boo, hangs head in shame) and I have used the metal bit off the lead for something I can't currently remember
I don't know how long the repair will last - I'm not very bothered as Shirley chewed the ends when she was a puppy so I wore it all frayed for two summers, but I am pleased to be nudged into doing it. I learned how to bind ends in in the 1970s, during my macrame phase and find it comes in handy about once every ten years. I did this with wool as I had some in blue and it was there. The first ones unravelled at the end so I did another layer on top with a bit of African fabric right at the end so I could stop the wrapping earlier. Bodged is the word, I do believe. Or good enough.
Bloke has asked me to sew some buttons back onto his leather jacket so that's one for tomorrow. I'm sure more will occur to me.
I haven't walked at all today, just 1875 steps, or .8 of a mile. But I have to learn to let myself rest - it's so hard. I've been fidgetty as fuck since I woke up.
Today I have been grateful for: D the acupuncturist who laughs at me, kindly, and reminds me to listen to what my body is telling me, not my broken mind; for Bloke cooking dinner; for my little art room which I fucking love - oh the bliss of being able to get stuff out and leave it, not in anyone's way, on a table - a table! - luxury! For feeling like a writer again, now I write every day again.
12:42 a.m. - 04.02.20
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