It’s Called Sunday

Peaceful Sunday morning.

From my chair here at the kitchen table I can see the sun shining outside beyond the shaded deck, the gilt of the pre-noon sun making the greens of the garden even greener thanks to a wetter than usual summer. The sky’s a soft pale blue, not the usual brazenly glorious blue that you just want to dive into. Today’s sky has a slight haze and the temperature’s cooler than the oven-like conditions during the week.

The kitchen’s a mess. Remnants of last night’s rather lovely bottle of Marlborough Sauv Blanc, a couple of glasses, spoons from when we shared some ice cream straight from the carton while watching a late movie, condiments, a dirty blender jug from breakfast and the kitchen table containing the minituae of daily life – newspapers, magazines, telephones cameras laptops glasses pens cds posters for Fringe. I told you it was messy.

The only sounds are that of the birdsong outside and the occasional huffing sigh from one of the three sleeping dogs.

Its very peaceful.Out there.

Meanwhile inside my head the world is whirling: edit the standup for the show (again), learn it (better), learn the script, tidy up, do the washing, get some dusting done, get something ready for tea, do some exercise, send out more publicity stuff for the show, what am I forgetting, there must be something I’m forgetting, think think think.

And so it goes on, for at least 16 hours a day, and much of the 8 that I sleep, I suspect, as I go from world to world not quite able to keep up in that one, and only slightly less cack handed in this one.

Perhaps its the remnants of the virus I had this week that’s making its way through my workplace, sending us all dizzy and cramping.

But its probably not. These are the usual conditions inside my head.
Why can’t I absorb the peace of my surroundings? Perhaps I need to develop a more ‘fuck it’ kind of attitude.

Ah well. I suspect I’m not the only one with whirling brain syndrome, virus present or not. Chances are you have it too. What’s the solution?

Well, I heard when i was a child that in Iceland television was dead on Thursdays. There was no TV service at all to allow families to spend an evening together hopefully communicating.Maybe we could have a kind of ‘time out’ day to kick back and relax?

Oh dur, I’ve just realised that we do. Its called Sunday.
I think this is where I came in…

Have a good week!

Published by Maggie

Writer, traveller, observer.

One thought on “It’s Called Sunday

  1. My solution was to come to the Solomon Islands and live with no TV, crappy internet access, lots of power failures and crappy mobile reception! It didn't take me too long to develop a 'fuck it' attitude. Apart from moving somewhere like here, I'm sorry, no solution to whirling brain syndrome. 🙂 xx

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