This temporary flat situation, it’s fucking with my bathing routine. Basically, I’m in a flat that’s not mine, and the hot water arrangement, it’s poor, and has lead to many lukewarm, sub-standard baths, even tho I packed carefully, and included bathing extravagance in my too-heavy choices.
This thing: I am doing a new thing that I am not very good at, and I am figuring it out, and getting better at it, but it’s stressful, and high pressure, and I could be doing it better, and other people are getting frustrated with me in the meantime, and I am not without anxiety at the best of times, even when I am doing something really well.
So y’know. Yeah. Grown upping. I fail. And usually I would say I will get better, and I will, but right now I’m just a bit tired, and pissed off with myself for not being brilliant at everything immediately.
And usually I would say bathing makes everything OK, but lukewarm baths are crap, and I’ve been having a lot of them.
Also, my body is speaking to its union, because all this is hard, physically. I knew it would be, and I prepared for it. I made that choice. It could have been easier, but it wasn’t. Things that have happened, things that other people have done because they thought they would be helpful, they were not helpful, and have made them worse, in my head, if not in reality.
And all I want – all I want – is a hot bath, with a spicy scent, but life is never as straightforward as it should be, and I wish it was easier.
I know I complain too much. I am very lucky and life is good. But life being good does not preclude life being hard, and that’s a thing.
I am a self-indulgent fool, at least I am self-aware.