Monday, 17 September 2012

1/11th living. Or thereabouts.

Between basic chores surmounted by doing a one load of washing, I didn't get far along in the plan of making some space in the garage (which has never seen a car) in order to shuffle activities so as not to be taken by surprise by Halloween or Christmas.

"I'm going outside, and I may be gone... for five minutes."
And that was enough to notice a fatigue burning in my forearms and biceps, even though I was not shifting sacks of coal or nets of logs.
A few relatively light cardboard boxes was all, be for the five minutes was up, and the fifty-five minutes of rest cut in, and I was ready for it.

The same in the afternoon, and that was it for the day, as far as tasked activities went.
(Beyond making supper, getting the rubbish ready for the collection tomorrow, etc. The routines which eat up repeated precious five minutes with nothing lasting to show for it.)

There's always tomorrow.
...and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace...
No, lets not go there today.

Today when resting I did have a nice nasty idea.  I wonder of i can find a cheap Duracell bunny and convert him to the Brand X naff battery version as an image for CSF?
The idea appeals but, as ever, my energy budget is looking at me disapprovingly over its half-moon spectacles.

But you've got to let the humour out to play at times, even if black and twisted.  I do fancy a CSF bunny of some sort.
I shall turn it over, gently, in one  or more of my periods of rest tomorrow.
Rommel's dictum applying:
"If you have a difficult job to do, give it to a lazy man.  He will find an easy way to do it."

Or just, with CFS, some energetically economical way.

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