Well, the good news is I survived the weekend. Only barely, but still. I’m alive. My liver is in tatters, my skin is diabolical, my exercise program has stubbed its big toe, and my apartment is a complete disaster zone, but I’m alive. I slept for ten hours last night, and may I just take a moment to recommend a good night’s sleep to anyone feeling similarly off the rails (it seems to be going around)? Because it really works wonders. I’ve even recovered a small measure of my vocabulary, which I smashed like a dropped compact all over the footpath outside the pub at some point on Saturday night. Shudder.
Over-committed. That was the problem. For some reason, everyone was around this weekend, wanting to do things. And when we over-commit, we under-deliver. In the end, no one’s happy with us. No one was ever going to be. Llew called on his way home late Friday night, and at some point in the conversation he said he was just trying to keep everyone happy. And I said, ‘Yes, we both are. We always do this, and what happens is that we do it at our own expense, and then no one ends up happy with us anyway.’ Then I told him how I was feeling about the weekend, and we had an argument.
Perfect. It played out like clockwork. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Guilt, obligation, good intentions: that unholy trinity. It’s so powerful, and we fall for it every time. We haven’t figured out the means of managing it, and so it sucks us right in, time and time again, always spitting us out the other end like chewed tobacco hitting a hillbilly’s porch.
The expression ‘running around like a blue-arsed fly’ perfectly describes my weekend. By the end of it, I felt like a fly caught by a cruel and curious child. This child deliberately pulled off my wings. Then the child tore my body in half. Then the child trod on me, skipping away to find something else to kill, the mangled fly already forgotten. And I’m partially responsible for the way it all went down. I was too slow, too weak, too dumb to stay out of harm’s way. I buzzed too close to the child’s ear. I landed on the child’s nose even knowing my being there would come to no good at all. But I never learn, because as flies go, I’m a bit stupid.
The good news is that my first post on the Varuna alumni blog is up.