Sunday night and once more I have used what I call the weekend syndrome for and against myself. That is, I know I'm not fit enough to do X or Y, but I tell myself, it's the weekend! and I protest inwardly that everyone treats themselves at the weekend so why shouldn't I have the treat of attempting to disregard or short-circuit the awful debility? The trick is to ride rough-shod over what my body is telling me and pledge to pay my dues on weekdays. Even writing this makes me feel semi-ashamed. Clearly this is not sensible planning or wise pacing. To quote Dr Charles Lapp,
'I can assure you from experience that pushing and crashing, denial, depression and a negative attitude are all formulas for disaster, and I have never seen a patient who practiced them and yet recovered.'
I know, I know, yes, we know. But often I feel that pushing it (in short bursts anyway) is the only way I can have some semblance of a life, which in turn keeps my spirit fed.
Anyway, the weekend goody bag included being driven to the country to pick blackberries; and a trip to the cinema to see Little Miss Sunshine, which was kooky and amusing but hardly all-out-hilarious. The blackberries tasted great in a smoothie, whizzed with avocado and apple juice. Check the anti-oxidants on that. And I saw a farm cat greeting a dairy cow - whiskered cat nose sniffing up at wet cow nose, bending down, as if they were the same species.