Monday, March 25, 2019
Spring's here. Which is, I suppose, a good thing.
The clocks will soon go forward, the evenings will be longer and there are seeds to be sown. I can hope again.
Yet - everything feels wrong. I am filled with anxiety and am comfort eating like a savage. My granny jeans (Gap) feel tight and so does my chest. The doctor says I probably have a mild infection and has prescribed an antibiotic. That's a week ago now and I haven't picked it up. I should, even if it is only to tuck it away for a time of greater need.
And I cannot find the kitchen tiles I like. And my garlic isn't thriving and my friend's little bantam rooster died while I was looking after it. And Brexit. And Scott Walker died.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.