It's got to that time of term when everybody is flagging, feeling the pressure. Work to do, people to organise, bills, house, bins, recycling, money...or rather lack of it. If this is what adult life is like...well how extraordinarily sad.
No wonder us English are so bloody miserable the whole time! When you think about it, we are supposed to roam free, hunting and eating, because we are animals. Can you imagine trying to explain to a chimp that, for the rest of it's days, it must sit at a desk for eight hours a day doing something boring and tireing? Whose idea was it for it to be normal to loathe our jobs, and therefore a monumental proportion of our lives? Bearing in mind the rest of our time is spent eating, sleeping, doing more work such as bills and answering emails, and parking our arses in front of a tv to watch mind numbing crap, just to give our minds a rest? It seems so stupid.
I've had a glimpse of that over the past few days. Unfortunately I live with seven extremely loveable chimps. Because OBVIOUSLY it's a cracking idea to put three tea towels into the washing machine alone, it seems plain that if anything needs doing, I'm the one to do it. For example, tracking down lost bills, sorting out housing paper work and organise everyone. I resent this. It has shown me a vicious window into my future. Being furious with people I love for not helping, blowing up over things like a dirty hob and the recycling. It's miserable. What kind of a thing is misery to accept?
It requires hard work... concious hard work, to relax these days. Happiness is not a goal, it is a way of life. And I'll be damned if I allow myself to sink into this way of life, where ticking boxes and filling out bits of paper is at the top of my priorities.
