With Christmas coming up rapidly, I suspect I’ll be a bit slow on the blogging/blog-reading front, but now that I’ve said that, probably I’ll be blogging three times a day.
I hope not.
Sometimes I feel really sleepy and lose track of everything I was meaning to do, then I just get involved in one thing… like manipulating photographs in Photoshop Elements. It’s almost as though I feel the need to withdraw and relax completely; just forget about everything (even urgent things) and not worry about anything for a while.
I’ve been to town a little too often recently and that’s always a bad idea, as it makes me ragged around the edges, and I start behaving like a Duracell bunny whose battery is stalling. I’ve developed dromophobia…. yet another to add to my lengthening list, though really it’s nothing new. It’s just an offshoot of the agoraphobia. The last thing you want when you’re trying to Christmas-shop is a fear of crossing streets.
Got some more vinyl singles today… the charity shops always look relieved; I don’t think these things are rushing off their shelves. One of them was Air Supply… another was Abba. I thought the volunteer was very nice. It’s odd… I bought the singles, and he looked so directly at me that for a moment I thought “that’s not just a shop person, that’s a person!” That seems such a daft comment to make… but mostly I feel I’m keeping folks at arm’s length, so it’s just sort of “hello, thank you, goodbye.” But I could imagine actually talking to this one, as though he didn’t view me as some kind of strange insect. It struck me as strange that I had actually spoken to him without tying myself in knots; he said “do you want a bag?” and I said “no thanks, I’ll just put them in my trolley.” Then I thought “that’s so not me, I don’t talk to people!” even though I’ve been saying this exact same thing to every other shop assistant or volunteer I’ve talked to.
Anyway, we said thank you and goodbye, and walked to the door, and suddenly he was standing there holding it open and smiling. We walked down the street, and Mum said “that’s an awfully nice boy in there.”
Distracted me from the mean streets, anyway.