Have a mentioned I don’t like surprises? I never have, not even good ones. They all hold some element of deceit, of others knowing something you don’t, by definition. Oh yes, I hear the irony in those words. And if I didn’t like surprises before then I especially don’t now. Except now the feeling is mutual.
This post will be very slow going, because my hands are shaking so much I keep hitting the wrong keys. I had a phone call this afternoon I wasn’t expecting. It was a good phone call. It was a wonderful surprise. And yet as I hung up I realised I’d been pacing for its duration. When I stopped pacing I was alerted to my racing heart and my shaking limbs. Damn. That I’ve managed to peel vegetables for dinner is testament only to my will power. That I did it with all fingers still intact is sheer luck.
It’s a good job that part of me is fascinated by these physiological manifestations of psychological overload because otherwise I’d be ANGRY AS HELL that I still have so little control. Otherwise it would frustrate me no end that the energy I’m producing could power a small nation, almost TWO HOURS after I hung up that call.
As it is I can just wonder at the science experiment I’ve become. Thank goodness for that.