Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Well, this is an interesting turn of events. We don’t seem to have Internet this morning. I’m writing this post offline in the hopes that I can post it later — from work, if not from home.
Who knows what’s going on. Our household technology, as I’ve written before, is crap. Supposedly we have a new router en route from our Internet supplier that will fix all these problems. And a few weeks ago I bought a cable on Amazon so we could bring the router deeper into the house, putting it in a more central location -- but the cable was "lost in the post" (as the seller insisted) and they have sent me another, which has yet to arrive. Oh, brother.
Have you heard of Blue Monday? It’s supposedly the most depressing day of the year. Fortunately we’re already past it — it was this week. I don’t remember ever hearing about it before, but this year I saw Blue Monday mentioned in headlines and wondered what on earth it meant.
Dave filled me in: Apparently someone decided that a Monday in chilly, dark January, immediately after the debt-inducing Christmas season, was bound to be the ultimate in depression. While I consider it a good sign that I didn't independently recognize it as such, I must admit I've been going through some doldrums of my own.
(I did pay my credit card bill yesterday, and that wasn’t pretty, with a lot of our Florida expenses on it. But that's not really a cause for alarm. It was expected.)
Things just feel awfully messy around here. Our front landscaping, our Internet. Our mold problem, the recurrence of which had me scrubbing the living room wall at 6 a.m. yesterday morning. Work has been stultifying. French class is adding some pressure to my life, because I feel like I should be working harder and doing better than I am. My purple heart cutting seems to be dying rather than rooting, probably because it's getting limited sunlight.
Oh, and I was preparing to go see Lumiere London last night when I realized that it’s already over! Sunday night was its last — which is why I could find no trace of it while lugging around Dave’s stock pot on Monday evening. Apparently it only lasted four nights.
So we grind on through the dark winter...
(Photo: Old tile on shopfronts in Tooting Bec, south London.)