Decompression

Yesterday was glorious. I finally, finally got more or less caught up in blogland, answering comments and reading other blogs. It's been weighing on me that I've been a bad blogger the past couple of weeks, since my job got so hectic and Dave had his surgeries, and it feels good to have touched base with most of my blog pals.

I don't want to play the world's tiniest violin, but I think this period has been harder on me than even I have fully understood. Work has been very stressful -- and not the individual tasks themselves, but the overarching sense of pressure since my co-worker left. It's not just that there's a lot to do. There's a constant frantic edge to everything, and there's less placid routine and more wobbly variation. I think some people thrive in that kind of environment, and even enjoy and perhaps subconsciously encourage it, because it makes them feel needed and valued. I am not one of those people. So now, behind going to work every day, there is a constant looming thought: "Do I really need this job?"

Sadly, the answer probably still is yes, for the time being. I'm only (!) 58 years old. I'd like to put in 15 years before I quit, and I'll start my 15th year as a librarian in 2027. But I have been mulling retirement for a while now and that thought is never far from my mind. As I wrote the other day, my departed colleague's replacement is due to start in several weeks and that may absorb some of the unpleasantness. But her position has been cut from full to part-time, so we'll still be less fully staffed than we were.

Anyway, all this to say again that yesterday was glorious. In the morning I sat on the couch with some coffee and just did nothing. I let my mind go blank. I watched the birds on the bird feeders. I let my mouth hang slack and my eyes go glassy. I think Dave thought I was having a stroke.

In the afternoon I read "What Time of Night Is It?" by Mary Stolz, the sequel to "Go and Catch a Flying Fish," which I read in the spring. They're books about a family living on the Gulf Coast of Florida in the late 1970's, and the kids in the book are exactly the age of me and my brother. I identify so strongly with the descriptions of the landscape and wildlife, the weather patterns, the overall atmosphere of a less-developed Florida at that time. Hurricanes David and Frederic figured in the plot, and I remember the summer of those storms (1979). Stolz was essentially writing about my childhood. I enjoyed the book a lot.

In the afternoon we got a big box delivered to the door -- a "Get Well" fresh fruit basket from some of Dave's colleagues. It was a very kind gesture but rather ill-timed given that we're leaving town for a week today! We may have to take the grapes and bananas with us. I think everything else will last until we get back. Can a whole pineapple go in the refrigerator?

Remember how I promised to go back at night to check out those weird, Skylab-like light fixtures on Carnaby Street? Well, last evening I took the train down to Westminster and walked around Soho to see some of the sights. Above you'll see a brief video that answers the question of what the Skylab lights look like when lit, and hopefully helps you experience some London Christmas magic.

Coming to you tomorrow from Whitstable, if all goes as planned!

(Top photo: An autumnal hydrangea leaf I found on the patio yesterday morning.)