How to Tell When Recuperation is Over, and You Need to Get Out More

When bin day is the fulcrum of your week, you know it’s well past time to get out more.  Trouble is, I don’t want to.  I want to stay home and procrastinate on the DIY (yes, still) and many tasks on the list, such as not selling stuff on ‘Vinted’, and decide what to read next instead.  (Have to read ‘em before I can sell ‘em). 

Tragically, bin day has started to take on a stress all of its own.  It’s 1.30pm and they’re still not here.  Are they not coming today?  Is today actually Wednesday?  Will I have to leave the bin out all night again?  Will burglars think my house is empty? Will the bin men (probably not supposed to call them that nowadays) remember to leave a roll of food waste bags?  Will it have landed in the manner of a contemptuous lob at the front door, or will they leave me two rolls and brighten my day?  Is it because I put that dead sparrow in the bin – in a box and all, nevertheless, it’s in there maggotising as I type.  I just want it to be taken away please, sorry but it was too hot to bury it, plus I’m not four.  I know that birds must literally drop dead every day, but when one drops dead right onto your back garden and you’re just out there in your nightie, sans specs to get some morning daylight into your retinas and reset your circadian rhythms from staying up until 2am reading, well, that’s the sort of horror that sets off a spiral of bin day angst.  (I think it’s called displacement).

Booked a short break for later in the year.  Get out, visit some cafes, buy stuff.  Make some toast.  Now, which books to bring?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Displacement_(psychology)