Wishing the whole day through, trying to find lots of things not to do. I’m busy going nowhere, isn’t it just a crime? I’d like to be unhappy but, I never do have the time.
Today I am filling in the hours between meals, well not really meals, I am filling in the time between hours, yet as I do, they seem to fly past and although I think I am constantly eating, I am obviously not. It’s a very peculiar thing to feel and do because as much as I watch the clock and wonder when it would be a decent time for me to have that next protein shake or yogurt (or whatever is next on the list) I don’t actually see the going of the time and although I don’t actually forget to eat I don’t actually remember to either. Like I say, very peculiar. Maybe I am at sixes and sevens as the old saying goes. Maybe I am not really feeling myself, maybe I am still under the influence of anaesthetics or old habits. I don’t really know.