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Dec 01

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Soup and Self-Pity

Things to do when ill:

1.  Turn off the alarm clock.  I have been trying to set my alarm clock for the same early hours as all my friend with their ‘real jobs’ and their ‘offices’ and other bizarre concepts.  This is of course ludicrous, because my friends work 9 p.m. – 5 p.m. at which point they go to see… oh, I don’t know… theatre shows, or music events or other things on which I’m working flat out.  So the idea that, to somehow prove to myself that I’m a decent labouring member of society I need to get up at the same time as them is, patently, absurd.

Anyway.

Clock’s off now.

Body’s still waking me up at stupid a.m., though.  Sulk.

2.  Soup.  I have been making soup.  But am now out of lemons.

3.  Bad TV.  Also!  In fairness.  I’ve watched a lot of documentaries.  I love documentaries.  I like sewing my clothes back together while watching them.  (Downside of technical work: clothes frequently damaged.)

4.  Mindless pottering.  Today, I cleaned the oven.  This monumental event only ever happens at the end of writing a novel, in those strange, detached few hours when you drift around the flat after writing the last few words and think, ‘oh.  Okay.  What’s next?’  Turns out, though, that it’s just about mindless enough that I can do it while ill, and makes me feel better about myself since, as a freelancer, I’m conditioned to feel guilt whenever I’m not doing something.  Anything.  Anything at all.

5.  Generic self-pity.  Do I make sounds like a grumpy zombie when trying to find paracetamol?  Hell yeah.

6.  Lots of reading.  The deadline for the shortlist for the Kitsches approaches fast and so publishers, including I have to admit, mine, have suddenly been submitting everything all at once.  Which is thrilling (free books!) but also infuriating (why did they take so long) as now my bedroom floor is mostly covered in guilt in unread trade paperback form.  But ah well… we’re getting there.

7.  Not really updating the blog.

I mean, I know I should.

And I think this is me doing it.

But um.  My wombats.  Warthogs.  Weevils.

… words!

Oh yes.

Them.

They’re not so great, when I’m high on paracetamol…

On the plus side!  This made me happy:

Permanent link to this article: http://www.kategriffin.net/2013/12/01/soup-and-self-pity/

4 comments

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  1. OD

    If even your words are sick,
    you really deserve some rest.

  2. MidwestJoe

    *bursts into a fit of giggling*…oh that sign has totally made my night…it totally has, I’m still laughing at it because it’s totally something that any government would do and I can totally see police officers with PKE Meters and pedal operated ghost traps standing at the turnstiles with grim looks on their faces as they scan down folks and ask absurd questions like “did you walk through any walls today?” or “How long have you been a corporeal entity?” and of course there’s going to be some ghostie with travel papers and maybe that could lead to some sort of non-corporeal oppression and prejudice but I don’t think that’d happen I mean folks are pretty open minded right and ghosts wouldn’t be all that big of a thing right?…Imagine ghost Elvis still making music or ghost Winston Churchill being interviewed about modern politics…*pauses to take a breath and ponder*….yeah I think I’m a bit tired…*glares at radio blaring christmas music and then points*…that thing isn’t helping either…hope you feel better soon, safe paths :)

  3. Larry P.

    When I retired, I thought I should be doing something. I even look at the want adds. If I ever find A job I’ll go in shock. Don’t like the idea of having to be somewhere at the same time every day.

  4. David Brider

    Ha! I saw that sign a few weeks back. First thing I thought was, “it’s one of Kate’s novels come to life!”

    Hopefully you’re better now anyway, but just in case, *sends healing thoughts and good vibes down the interwebz*

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