Last night I found myself at Ringwood station, normally the sort of place you can’t walk 5 steps without being asked if you can spare a cigarette, but yesterday the scene of something rather special and lovely. There was a poster up at the entrance point, and a box of texters, and members of the public were encouraged to write up what they were grateful for on the poster. Lots of heartwarming contributions – ‘my family’ ‘my boyfriend’ ‘having a caring family and a roof over my head’ ‘my family and sport,’ ‘my awesome school ‘ this beautiful life’. I wrote up my own contribution of course, and then instagrammed it attempting to stay uncynical. All the feels.
Yeah, hokey as fuck, but quite nice. I then headed back to Baysie, where the entire suburb is a mass of orange shirts, as we prepare for the bloody level crossings to be removed.
Usually at this time of year people start to get tired. And by people I mean me. I am really tired. My eyes look like puffy pastries. I’m too tired to blowdry my hair so it stays in perpetual topknotdryshampoo combo/mess. I’m so tired that trying to muster up some sort of energy or inspiration to write is a huge effort.
It’s been a busy year. Lots of good stuff of course, but a few challenges professionally and personally. Also the world has gone a bit mad. Which is a bit terrifying. The presidency anyone? What the fucking fuck…
Anyway, I have begged a day to work from home today so that I may have a bit of extra sleep and a bit of extra headspace. And it seems to be working as I feel more human today than I have all week. Tomorrow I shall dive head first into a bucket of wine (first lot of xmas celebrations with the girls) but for today I shall take some well earned respite from the world. Not putting makeup on or contacts in #bliss