Moby, our household god, who keeps demons away, and does not let us sulk too long, or suffer alone.
Stunned this morning, now afternoon. The time change is hateful, throwing me off, ruffling my feathers. This is the week I always feel dreadful, even as I go to bed an hour earlier and get to sleep well enough. Awake at 0400, aching and dreaming vividly, then crashing into solid unconsciousness until a thick emergence tells me I've slept too long. I get up at 0930, earlier than I thought, but lethargic and guilty. Worse than the last two days in early to work.
Nothing done. Finished my book. Past Imperfect by Julian Fellows. An interesting story well told, but all a bit of a storm in a gilded teacup. Good perspective on modern, post war, British 'society' history, manners and expectations, but with an ending to comfort them instead of awakening. Consistent within the context of this novel, so I have no argument with it. Reminded me of Gosford Park, and that may be the point. The forms change, but the assumptions beneath do not, even today.
When D was being sent to San Francisco during the dotcom boom, working IT for an advertising agency, he got to take me once to the Pan Pacific Hotel. Very posh and shiny it was. He felt like he would be stopped and asked to leave, with his middle class background, even if some of his colonial ancestors were real toffs. I, as the child of a factory worker, simply gawked and enjoyed nosing into this other world. With me there, he was able to relax and be amused. Such delights will not come our way again, nor do I care. Fun at that moment, though.
I'd've been no good at an idle life. I don't relish work, but I do care about being useful, and I tend to drift without meaningful activity. I practice what I call enlightened laziness. Get everything done as soon, and as efficiently, as possible, so I can sit and read. The result matters, the method matters, but the amount of time it takes up does not. Nothing more lovely than a day off, to be idle and drift. A day. The odd week. I've never had a whole month, but it sounds good. Years? I'd go insane. Wouldn't know where to put myself. Not that such a life has ever been on offer.
Could really use a few weeks vacation, it's been decades since I've had more than seven days in a row without obligation, and even those are rare. A working life, thoughtfully lived.