Once more with feeling   Leave a comment

For one night only. Not like that.

So my arms’ RSI/Carpal tunnel seems much improved, just in time for the nerve conductivity test I have next Tuesday. A good thing, though, especially considering the amount of Legend of Grimrock I’ve been playing over the last week. I suspect that Skyrim wasn’t so much to blame for my crippledness as overdoing it on the weight contraptions at the gym. This has not been a problem recently. Frankly I’d much rather give up gym time than computer games.

And so I write a blog post, because I feel like whining into the aether. I shall not be returning to one-per-day-on-average, because why push my luck? Also, I’ve been keeping a diary on actual paper with an actual pen, and it isn’t very interesting so be thankful that I’m saving your time. Rest assured that little of note has happened; I lost some weight, I ate a lot of chocolate, I got fat again.

Recently I’ve been avoiding making some telephone calls. One is a trivial thing; I want a load of rubbish cleared from my garden, and then I want a gate that would be the envy of any Mediaeval fortress fitted in my entry. Unfortunately, having somebody turn up with a gate and bolt it in seems to be a problem beyond mortal ken, and I’m yet to discover how one might induce its happening. This is then further discouragement from getting on with the clearance; I don’t want to telephone or speak to the company, or see them, or have them in my garden, or pay them, so if I then can’t have impenetrable gates of warding fitted – the entire motivation for the exercise being to keep out any marauding enemy hordes – then why bother? At least this way the marauding hordes might trip and impale themselves on broken glass or bent, rusty nails.

There are other tedious house problems, as usual. I’ve somehow accrued a surprising amount of money since foolishly buying this knackered old wreck of a house. The obvious solution would be to use the former to fix the latter, but it’s surprisingly onerous and tedious. There is no problem so difficult that adding people won’t make it harder.

Back to telephones. A year or so ago I talked to my doctor about my social anxiety. He was surprisingly helpful (I always expect people to, at best, roll their eyes and tell me to go away) and organised some things. Self-help CBT (not the motorbike one) was one, although I found that inscruitable, frustrating, and thought it sounded a lot like common-or-garden self-help/positive thinking-style nonsense of the style promulgated* by quacks, charlatans and celebrities. Counselling was another, although I got confused with something else, mucked up the arrangements, and so it didn’t happen. Look, it was over a telephone, and I’m very easy to confuse.

As it’d been playing up recently (or, perhaps, because my usual source of escape from humanity had been cruelly taken away) I asked about trying that again, seeing as I had to go about my arms anyway. I thought that maybe a counsellor could tell me why, exactly, staying at home with the doors locked and curtains closed, only venturing out for food, is a bad way of dealing with the enemy humans. It wasn’t the same doctor this time, and I don’t think he’s a regular at the practice, so he didn’t know exactly what had happened before and couldn’t arrange for the counsellor to call me – but he did give me a number to call myself.

This is a good wheeze.

On good days, when I don’t feel so bad about dealing with people, I don’t feel that telephoning a counsellor is necessary. Clearly I am a well-adjusted human, capable of interacting with others, and so such things would be a waste of their time. On bad days I’m not even going to pretend that I’m up to telephoning somebody I don’t know about something that they might not do that could be a complete waste of time anyway.

Part of me thinks it might be a good idea; I’ve not felt much like leaving the house at all since Friday; I’ve had to, alas, but it’s been a bit of a struggle. Part of me points out that I’m begging the question that that’s a bad thing, because I enjoy over (but, also, correctly) using “begging the question”. Part of me thinks “bugger that for a game of soldiers”.

Part of me suspects this whole post is procrastination, avoiding getting on with buying carrots/making casserole/cutting my hair/grumbling and being miserable that I have to go out for dinner for my sister’s birthday tomorrow/playing Legend of Grimrock, which is what I’d rather be doing.

 
* You know when a word’s on the tip of your tongue, so you poke through a thesaurus to try to figure out what you’re wanting to say? Well, promulgate wasn’t that word, but it’ll just about do.

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