my candle is still flickering, even tho it's being burnt at both ends at the moment. . . what I have to think and focus on is that this is my future, not my past. . . there's no rush to unpack (which is just as well, as there are still boxes of things here not yet unpacked from the move out of The Village, eighteen months ago, let alone the move from the rented house nine months ago). . . I have time
I do have time
so if I don't have the energy right now, but that doesn't matter - does it? the washing machine works and there is food in the fridge. . .
it feels as if I have descended to the bottom level of Maslow's hierarchy (without the sex, obviously) altho if truth be told I am probably fortunate enough to be hovering between the second and the third (without the sex, obviously). . .
I never had much truck with Maslow, to be perfectly honest, since I discovered that he'd dismissed a huge swathe of the population from his work (on the basis that "the study of crippled, stunted, immature, and unhealthy specimens can yield only a cripple psychology and a cripple philosophy") (which may or may not be bollocks - but in my humble and honest opinion you can't conduct a study and come up with a psychological definition of humanity and all it aspires to be if you ignore one of the basic aspects of being human) (can you) (can you?) (seriously, I'm happy to quibble over this) (well, obviously Maslow could, but thereby lies its flaws, as far as I'm concerned) (at least he admitted to them tho, I guess)
where was I?
oh yes, unpacking. . .
the good news is
I've found the Christmas decorations!
see, there's always a bright side - even in one's darkest hour. . . and that's the trick to coping, remembering there's always a bright side. . .
(*queue Eric Idle*)