... the idea goes away. It's happened again. Paragraphs of razor-witted wisdom all ready in my brain, deleted in the frantic search for a few appropriate words to describe them at the top of the post.
I was going to write about how much, on a sunny, extrovert day like today, I enjoy being in Brighton, and the fact I seldom say so, and how uneasy I still feel when I feel good - particularly if this feeling happens without a great deal of effort.
A few days ago I wrote here about how the Warning Superego Voice in my head had suddenly gone very quiet - and rowtheboat astutely commented that it might not have disappeared for ever. Well, agreed: this nasty internal voice, which I often associate with my mother's long-dead father, has been around long enough to know a trick or two. It's stopped shouting at me, full frontal as it were, telling me what a jerk I am each morning when I wake up. But it goes on making quieter but still destructive appearances producing pseudo problems to stop me relaxing into being happy...
For example, for two months, I have been "trying" to get rid of 50 perfectly good cardboard packing boxes, and meanwhile they have been sitting in the (otherwise empty) bath, reproaching me every time I shave. (there's a shower room upstairs). The person who said they could sell them for me has dispppeared from my life; how can I get in touch with her, how can I profitably dispose of these boxes, blah, I hate them blah, blah, rid me I can't stand their dreary miserable browness, I'm STUCK, how can get rid of my boxes..?
Easy. Yesterday, I found a list of housemovers in Brighton on Gumtree, phoned the first one up... and within two hours he had taken all the boxes away and given me £25 for them...
In other words, for 2 months, some part of me (Grandpa?) really didn't want a solution to the cardboard box problem. Feeling aggrieved felt so much more comfortable than feeling good.
Does anyone else know what I'm talking about here?
