I have invincible fingers. They will never be cold again.*Yesterday, my 5mm neoprene gloves arrived. This morning, I christened them. I filled them full of hot water at the tap and put them on. Great bulbous boil hands, they were, with water spurting out from the wrists.
I did two and a bit laps (of a limited winter pond). Not even a flicker of cold-hand. But prickly shoulder was back, big-time. Attention. That's all. If it was colder today, it was by half a degree, if that. It's still hovering around 11 degrees. It's all in the mind.
The added benefit of said gloves - they're kind of shaped, so they give you a rigid prosthetic hand look that also feels quite pleasing. Even relaxed, your hand keeps its perfect curvy shape. I'm tempted to start wearing on as a Michael Jackson-style affectation, although I have to accept that I'll never be able to be bothered.
Oak leaves on the water dived down stuck to my body, touched my toes like nippy fish. A bucket of hot over the head after showering. A brisk walk to banish the grey fingernails. Bliss.
I've achieved so little today. I've been grumpy as all fuck, apart from my pondy intermission. I've been hiding in the cave. When I feel like this, I can talk to any stranger and have lovely exchanges, sometimes meaningful ones. Friends and loved ones are harder. I want to hide in the cave. I want to hibernate.
I can cope with written words, and I caught myself laughing a lot when I did speak with people. I just didn't like the idea. But I was delicate and weepy, and that can be dangerous.
I cried at a fucking Littlewoods advert. That's the scale of it, today. It was cheesy and pungent. It involved children on stage. I was inconsolable at the Cancer Research ad. Honestly, though, today, I wouldn't be surprised to find the tears flowing at Compare The Market. Anything set me off.
And irritable. Oooooh, I was irritable. Anything I could take the wrong way, I would. But only for a second, mostly, because as soon as I notice this behaviour, it's emasculated by my pointing and laughing at it.
I was tempted to write letters to 'address' all my problems today, but luckily, I managed to laugh and point at that too, and hold back until a clearer-headed day. It may well need doing, all very well, but not today.
I spoke to Our Face. Always a gift. She's going to come and play in December. I'm not being cute. We're playing with masks. It will be ace. I'm already excited. Great stuff to come. And I had a chat with my tooth-sister, Kati Schweitzer. Another peach.
Speaking of teeth, that's almost up there with dogs and leaves. If I put my fake teeth on and look in the mirror, it's almost certain to make me laugh and flirt, even with myself. They're magic. I must try out that energy in real life. They turn me into something else, all coquettish and smiley. They elongate my face. If I'm on the ball enough, next time something genuinely bad happens, I'll remember to put them in, just to test the theory. In the face of badness, will the teeth do the job, even for a second? Maybe not, on the biggest things, but it will sort the wheat from the chaff. A Bad Shit Geiger counter.
A friend has started blogging too. She writes with such fine taste. She gives me glee. I'm both moved and proud every time I read her blog. Such skill and honesty. Such wit. Such grace.
My daily existence is full of happy choices, wonderful people, great ideas and fulfilling things to do and think and share. I am so grateful, even full of grump and moon-wrath.
And now I'm in my bed, up to my neck in two quilts, with a book and a computer and this, my blog, nearly done. Not long until blissful unconsciousness. And then what... oh! the pond.
* I put 'invincible fingers' into google images. This picture is called 'fingers of death'. How can I complain about my life? I can't.
No comments:
Post a Comment