Normal?

So…… yeah.

Life is pootling on.  People are asking me how I’m going and I’m like:  Yeah.  Fine.  Not much to report.  We’re going to work, coming home, hanging out, eating nice food, drinking reasonably priced wine…

It’s all feeling weirdly normal.  Which is unsettling.  Actually, scratch that.  Not all of it is feeling normal.  And that’s unsettling as well.

I’m doing a lot more exercise now that I’ve joined a gym again and signed up for a cheeky wee 5k run in July.  As a result I’m wondering when, if ever, I am going to feel normal about doing reasonably intensive exercise for around an hour three times a week.  Doesn’t seem like much but for a full two days after said exercise I want to spend my time looking desperately at the sky while shaking my upturned, claw-like hands on outstretched arms,  wailing:  WHEN WILL THIS FEEL NORMAL? 

Meanwhile every atom in my body spends its time shouting in reply:

NEVER!  IT’S NEVER GOING TO FEEL NORMAL!  AND WE’LL THANK YOU TO NOTE THAT IT’S POSSIBLE YOU MIGHT HAVE NEEDED THAT LUNG YOU’VE JUST COUGHED UP AT A LATER DATE AND NOW YOU’VE GONE AND GOT GRIT ALL OVER IT.   

My atoms are a right bolshie bunch.   

To be honest, I have to hand it to them – I’m beginning to feel like I have actually lost a lung or that one of the lungs currently occupying my chest cavity might be full of grit.  This too is slightly worrying.

But nevertheless, a lot of life is feeling normal.

There is still the odd moment, of course, where something doesn’t quite go to plan.  We’re both still in that phase of transition from a period of instability and stress to one of normality and calm where an unexpectedly open door or misplaced item can send us gibbering into a corner.  In between these moments, however, we’re kind of amazed at how we’ve managed to get away with it, in the manner of people who accidentally get caught up in a major heist, manage to bag some of the cash and end up on a beach in Mexico.  A half-baked ill-executed plan to move to the other side of the globe somehow didn’t go disastrously wrong and here we are.  Doing not too badly, all up-GAKISTHATTHEROOFFALLINGIN?! 

No. It’s just a light bulb blowing. 

Oh ok.  *I Slowly creep back out from under the table where I was really just checking for … stuff.  No alarm here.  No sir.  Not at all.*

So this normality, right…  I’m wondering:  is this a good thing?  Is feeling normal about everything actually a desirable outcome? 

What if normality isn’t enough for me and what if that’s why I’m hammering away at my poor squidgy body.  Maybe that’s why I’m also jumping on buses without looking and picking up impossible tasks to undertake at work.  I’m having to curb constantly the urge to say or do something outrageous and inappropriate.   To sing out loud along with the tunes I’m listening to through my earphones.  I’m feeling dangerously devil-may-care.   And this is the point Vic Roads decides it’s appropriate to bestow upon me a full drivers licence? 

Good God, What Next and Where Can This End?

ROAD TRIP!

(PS I'm really hoping this is just an attempt at an amusing blog and not some kind of prophecy about my own demise...)