thaw

So there have been a few days of busy life without a lot happening. I had a couple of hangovers - one quite spectacular, probably because it was so unexpected. It was also brought to my attention by the cat pouncing on my head at an hour unsuitable for consciousness. I flailed and swore and stole his toy and hid it under my pillow. Texts and missed calls started appearing on my phone and it occurred to me that, according to the rest of the world, the day was starting. It was cold and the smattering of snow from the day before hadn't melted. Two of the missed calls were about lunch.

So I entered the day. I drank coffee and pomegranate juice and showered and played with the cat. Broomie picked me up and we went to meet Afro-beard at the Jigger to have the largest burgers available in Fife. It was brisk and snowy and a small coal fire burned in the fireplace. The burgers arrived and looked for all the world like meteorites between toasted focaccia. The banter flowed, so much the couple at the booth behind ours started giggling at our chat. Burgers and beers imbibed, we slipped out onto the snow and the rest of the day.

There were snowball fights and snow angels last week. Layers of cotton and wool and scarves and gloves and that sort of stuff that's fun and tedious all at the same time. I staggered home from a party in the wee hours, down the Pends, its virgin snow glistening in the jaundiced streetlights.

Then the thaw came and it was just January again. Bitter and grey with a howling gale and mountains of debt, paperwork and unwritten pages kicking about. I'm watching lots of Simpsons episodes these days - familiarity and humour are most welcome this time of year. Usually I'll vacantly surf the net while keeping one eye on the TV.

Other times I'll play Tetris on my phone. That has become a great waste of spare time. Formerly, when faced with spare moments and only my phone for company, I would read a digital copy of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, or tap out some thoughts on Simplenote. No more. Now, when that spare second or two appears, I launch Tetris and lose myself. Every day I tell myself, I plead with myself - DELETE IT. No good can come of it. My spacial and geometric awareness are on top form, of course, better than they've been since '94. The last time I was addicted to Tetris. So I shall probably delete it tomorrow, after my attempt to beat my current high score - a respectable 145,000-odd.

So tomorrow it's gone. Or the next day.

It's peculiar, worrying about what you're doing, rather than what you're not doing. I'm worrying about dropping shapes, zoning in front of the tube, balancing my caffeine intake with the odd dram in the late afternoon. It provides gentle preoccupation. It's easier to contemplate quitting something you know is superfluous than it is to resolve to do something you know is necessary. Especially when there are quite few somethings, and they're pretty fucking important.