I fear work is getting the better of me. My days seem shorter and shorter as I sleep progressively later each morning, in my tired body`s attempt to recoup energy levels.
Time slips effortlessly away on seemingly silly unimportant, every-day tasks – where even a phone call demands too much of my precious time. I find myself begrudging these demands on my day. No sooner has my day begun, does it seem I have to begin my pre-work rigmarole, leading up to another 8 hour evening shift on this dreaded treadmill.
Is this issue something to do with my age? The older I become, the more time seems to lose it`s normal momentum and take on the velocity of a speeding bullet. Or is this to do with the older I become, the “fuller” my life becomes, accumulating more trappings?
Meanwhile, I gloomily push my walking trainers to the back of the shoe cupboard, out of sight, as the longing to pull them on and walk the dogs in the cool of the late evening is distracting. Inwardly, I try to quell the unrealistic, but persistent need to slump around in my pjs on an evening, lounge on the settee in front of the TV, a perverse need to just potter around “dead-heading” the geraniums and water the garden.
Some people say it must be paradise living here. Yes, paradise is here on this lovely isle of Crete – if you don`t have to work – 7 days a week!
I can do nothing but wait. Wait for the impending closure of this years season.
Watch out trainers – here I come!