Living In Treadmilling Times

Today has been a day lived on a permanent mental treadmill. Got on the train at 6.38, did an hour of editing on the Valley Line train, got off at Cardiff, had my first Starbucks of the day, got on another train, did two more hours of editing, got off at Paddington, had a second Starbucks, went into the office, and straight into a meeting. Finished the meeting, wrote a list of Stuff To Do, said I’d go walking with Brenda. Then I looked at the list. It had had children.

I watched, and it birthed another three items. I looked away, then flicked my eyes back to it. Another three items were licking themselves and mewling, all newborn and scowling.

Bugger.

Cancelled the walk with Brenda, much against my will. Determined to go for a lunchtime Starbucks any damn way. 

Looked back at the list. It seemed to be birthing a second generation of sub-items and sub-clauses.

Bugger bugger bugger.

Cancelled lunch, had another meeting, while doing three of the latest things on the list. Another five took their place.

Bugger bugger bugger and arse!

Clearly, simply walking this mental treadmill was never gonna get the job done. I pushed up a couple of gears, managing to nip out for a goddamned Starbucks after all, so nehh! Nearly had a heart attack when, just outside the office, I came across a pert, black Smart car.

Nooooooo! Ed was following me, like one of those puppies who look at you with big wet eyes when you don’t throw them a stick, as if to say “That’s OK, I realise that just...sniff...throwing a piece of wood, so I can bound happily after it and feel complete in my ultimate dogginess...is too much effort for you. I know how busy you are...sniff...I’ll just sit here...sniff...”

I pushed past it, trying desperately to harden my heart against the little metal puppy.

Got back to the office, only to find the list was reproducing like cells on an agar plate. Radically prioritised, carved something of a swathe through the work, and eventually buggered off back to Paddington. You find me sat in a Starbucks, having a final coffee for the day, already thinking of the work I can get done on the three hours or so (if I’m lucky, four if not) of train journey home, and what’s to do tomorrow – perversely, Ma’s eye appointment, which we assumed was Wednesday, has been brought forward to 9AM tomorrow, ahead of Dad’s clinical trial appointment.

Part of me thinks there must be a pause button on this treadmill somewhere, but if I’m entirely honest, part of me is loving the mad pace of the day. Kind of pushes you on, liking the number of lines you can cross off on the endless reproducing list. Have a feeling it’s gonna be one of those weeks.

And I like it.