It is like living with a sulky teenager. You get up at a reasonable hour and just before leaving for work in the morning you say, “You know you’ve got that to do today? You will do it, won’t you?” And the reply comes back, “Yeah. Don’t you trust me?” Then in the evening you get home and say, “Did you do it?”
-Why didn’t you do it?
Irritating. But I really did intend, and I don’t know why I didn’t. Because I didn’t want to, or thought something would go wrong, perhaps. It is like watching someone else doing something incomprehensible and trying to work out why they did it. I don’t consciously understand my motivations.
I have slime in my bicycle tyre, to seal holes less than ¼”. I cycled to Oundle to the charity shops, and found a Laura Ashley dress. Well, Oundle is a smart area, so has good charity shops. The LK Bennett dress was too small alas. It was terribly hot, and slime actually erupted twice from my front tyre, wetting my legs. That might indicate the hole was too big for the slime to cope. I pumped the tyre up a bit, and my foot pump broke.
So I thought, I will cycle into Swanston, go to the fruit stall, the supermarket, buy a pump and call in at the cycle shop. And I didn’t. So I wondered if I had not because of the chance of something going wrong, or possibly having more to do than usual. Or even J’s suicide. It’s a helpless feeling, thinking I ought to do that and not getting the motivation together to do it. Anne used to say “Action” which was enough to get her in gear.
So I thought I would get the bus. That would get rid of one potential problem. Then actually I cycled into Marsby and bought some food though not as much as I would have, finding that my hand pump could get the tyre hard enough and there were no further punctures, that I noticed. I could just get a new tyre, inner tube and slime but money’s too tight to mention. But having that air leak through my tyre, not the wall of the tyre but the tread, means I could trust it less. Of course if I got a new tyre things could still go wrong but might be less likely to.
I am usually safe for the moment if I just stay indoors. Jesus said, face reality. Build your house on the rock. You know how things are and what you must do, so do it; do not deny how things are. However, not wanting to see quite how bad things are, or to deal with the problems, makes sense to me. I know it’s building a house on sand, when troubles come I am unprepared and my house falls down, and still it feels better now but for the nagging doubts where reality can’t be completely suppressed from consciousness.
Or I am psyching myself up to deal with it, like sitting here hoping motivation will simply develop and I will take action. But, thinking, oh I could take the bus, and finding out my hand pump would work sufficiently even though slime blocked the valve, is something like that: by waiting, I become better able to deal with the problem. Just waiting and not doing anything is not always merely silly.
Part of me is the sulky teenager.
I went to Edinburgh, stayed with my nephew, got to know his fiancée a little bit, saw my sister and my other niece’s partner who seems a decent enough bloke, there was no great coming together but it was just nice and I felt auto-schadenfreude: I was glad I was sad when I left, because sadness at leaving shows pleasure in meeting. It is good to see them. Then I saw my neighbour in the back yard, we chatted away pleasantly, I petted her dog, she said “You seem cheerful,” which I heard as a threat. Obviously you are not depressed.