John Donne.
Under the new regime it tolls for me.
I suspect I may come to hate that little kitchen timer, even if its iron rule is aimed at doing me good.
This may qualify it for it honorary admission to the guild of personal trainers.
It's too soon to tell how onerous 9% living is going to be: today was a day when I could miss washing and go for lazy dressing.
(Sorry if that's "too much information".)
I won't be able to do that every day, and that's an hour or more of the daily ration accounted for, in such basics.
The ease, almost eagerness, with which I collapsed at the rest periods just confirms what I knew: I am way beyond just "tired". "Fatigue" is where rest does not immediately restore either energy or stamina.
Boredom while on enforced rest periods isn't an issue yet; I'm mostly quickly out of it: asleep or nearly so.
What will happen in a couple of weeks or months remains to be seen.
Will I have to fight myself to rest I can imagine my brain, at least, getting fractious. And there is so much I want to do.
The remaining question to be settled smacks of school days:
is the bell the end of a lesson, and how long do you have to get to the next one?
Do I get preparation time? An allowance to "settle down"?
One thing is for certain: there won't be any issues about "running in the corridors" any more as my current gaits are creep, shuffle, lurch and amble - the last being my top gear on a good day.
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