The latest instalment in a series in which I answer the ongoing question “How do you fit it all in?”, which people ask me when I tell them what I do.
It was a productive day. I like those. Sometimes I have a day when I feel like an energetic snow plough, shovelling through my to-do list with nary a care in the world.
I got up at 7ish, started working, and carried on until half past five, when I went to meet my friend for pizza and a cocktail.
When I got home I discovered that my tomato jungle had toppled over, so I spent some time righting it and then went to bed.
Monday night saw me getting eleven hours’ sleep, which was great and made me feel a bit more alive again. Tuesday started out well, with a load of work done in the morning before heading to my usual afternoon appointment at 1pm. After that I went to Ravenscourt Park to see the lovely people at W6 Garden Centre & Café, where I hadn’t been for three weeks. Ravenscourt Park is really rather beautiful in the spring / summer.
I’d been planning on swimming in the evening but my period started so instead I stayed in and watched Netflix in bed.
Woke up, got up, started work. Worked for an hour, then it was time for an appointment with my GP, which was very frustrating. When I got home I messaged my girls with the following bordering-on-irate WhatsApps.
If one more fucking medical professional types my symptoms into their fucking computer and then goes “Oh it’s not coming back with anything, I don’t know, go home and eat more All-Bran” I am going to LOSE MY FUCKING SHIT.
An actual exchange I just had with my doctor:
Me: “I can’t feel my left leg, and in the evenings the left side of my body stops working and I can’t swim anymore.”
Doctor: “Try eating more All-Bran.”
This was after he was like, “Well we did blood tests on you three weeks ago” and I was like “No you didn’t I haven’t been in since December” and he was like “Oh dear yes sorry these aren’t your notes that I’m typing your current problems into.”
Also then he went, “Oh well no alarm bells are ringing so it’s nothing serious” which was exactly what he said last year BEFORE AN ORGAN MELTED.
Anyway, I’m used to this, and at least he agreed to start me off with a round of blood tests tomorrow. I doubt they’ll show anything significant. I’ll then have to fight for more tests when I go back.
This. Shit. Is. Exhausting.
I went home (via the supermarket, where I bought some fucking All-Bran) and carried on working until 3pm, when it was time for my driving lesson. That was terrifying but less so in the final 45 minutes. I am not brave on the road. One day I might be. But today was not that day.
I was supposed to be going to French Club in the evening, which is when the francophones of Kensington get together and speak no English for an evening, but I was tired and wanted an early night, which I got. I was in bed by half eight and asleep by nine.
I woke up twelve hours later, at quarter past nine in the morning. My body’s still catching up, apparently. I worked for a bit, then went to the book swap in Hammersmith’s Lyric Square to get rid of some of my books and pick up some new ones.
After that it was time for blood tests, which was when this happened.
After that I came home and did some more work, then got another early night. Most of this week has been about catching up on sleep.
Woke up, got up, started work. Worked until 1.30, at which point I had an appointment, then I came home, pottered around for an hour or so, and went to my friend’s place to sit on her roof terrace. Roof terraces rock.
I’d decided to have a quiet weekend in. I made my goal for Saturday ‘do not change out of my pyjamas’ and I succeeded. I caught up on Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. I read Paper Towns by John Green. I got up late and went to bed early.
Another quiet day. I woke up, read Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan, and started catching up on Jessica Jones on Netflix. At some point I decided to sit up in bed and write blog posts instead, which is what I’m doing now. I plan on finishing some posts, then getting another early night in the hope that I’ll be fully caught up on sleep by tomorrow morning.
Well, a girl can dream, right?