Slipping Into The Fog

Have you ever thought what it's like to be the central processing unit of your computer?

I'm generally pretty merciless, and push mine till they squeak - while I realise that having loads of stuff on your desktop makes your CPU addled and slow and basically forget what is, I figure it exists to serve me, rather than vice versa, and so I make it suffer for the convenience of having things where I can see them at a glance.

This week though, I'm starting to get an idea of how it feels. The more plates you spin, with the same physical deadline, the more intense the energy and the less focus yo uhave on any particular thing, until ultimately, everything gets too much and you crash, and fall over yourself, and retreat into a darkened corner of your casing and gibber for mercy.

Kinda feels like the spirit of the day, and the spirit of the week, really - work deadlines, packing deadlines, Disappearing deadlines - waaaagh! - and unless I'm really careful, I'm going to go into lockdown, or meltdown, or somesuch 503 Error.

Since only one of these deadlines is self-imposed, the Disappearing is almost slipping into the fog of the background. It's not that I'm suddenly guzzling handfuls of lard or anything, but I haven't biked in almost two weeks now, and the bottom line is I'm unlikely to get back on it before we leave London.

The fire still burns though - this is not me stumbling to a halt some two months before the end of Year One. It's just a case of spinning the first plates...first, as it were. As I keep wittering on about, when we get to Wales, everything changes. Time, availability of a range of exercise options...y'know, like uphill walking(!). For now though, I'm just having to do whatever I can in the way of not stuffing my gob, feeding myself excuses like the slowing of the metabolism as you lose weight, and, as d has just mentioned, get the 'stairmaster-workout-from-Hell,' carrying boxes up and down to our first floor new home...So if I happen to not have lost on Tuesday, or if I even happen to have put back on, it's just what it is. It's a speed-bump, till this deadline is passed, and that deadline is passed, and we can (to steal a line from a big fat dead guy in a bathtub) break on through to the other side.

Which is two weeks from now. Fourteen little days from right this minute, we'll have closed the door on our new place. As I look around our devastated living room, that seems unreal. But it's really a rollercoaster moment - tomorrow at 6AM, we crest the first hill and start rushing down at about 2G. And from there, we don't really stop for those two weerks. Of course, as I may have mentioned, there's only one more week before both the bike and the scales disappear from my life for a week. So, hold on to your Disappearing hats - this is where things get a bit manic and complicated. Though not noticeably less foggy till Christmas.