Sunday’s when the children aren’t home and I am, are harder than Sunday’s where I am out of the house, out of Brighton. They’ve got better but they have been incredibly hard to get used to. This morning hasn’t been ideal, I heard the dog’s whining at just gone 3am. He is the quietest dog usually but he needed to tell me something and he was insistent. To be woken to the sound of canine panic that reaches my ears from two floors away mainly means one of two things, sick or shit. Previous experience has taught me swiftness is the safest option and minimises damage so I HONESTLY jumped out of bed like my life depended on it and ran down the stairs. Yesterday I found the paper packet of a slab of butter next to the dog on his bed. He’d basically eaten over 200g of it and was lying looking pretty contrite, fairly aware he had probably made a mistake. It’s taken 24 hours to reach a full realisation of just how bad it would make him feel. I got him outside in time to hear the most horrendous yakking as he threw up in the garden. When he got back in and I got back into bed I ended up having the most unsettling, angry dreams, that were their own other thing.
Hours later George walked into my room complaining of growing pains and coughing until he was almost sick as well. I had to half heartedly massage his legs until I got left alone and fell back asleep. The next thing I knew it was five to ten and they would be leaving to go to their dads. That was a frenzied rush and within a very brief moment of time it was just me knocking around the house. Again. I hate it, it’s loaded with meaning and it feels hugely unfair that weekends are now so thoroughly fucked up.
Trying to retrieve something positive from the free time I’ve decided to try for 2 hour 40 minutes of study (sounds arbitrary as a timeframe – sure I’ve read it somewhere this week??) and after making a coffee and a slice of toast sat down at the kitchen table, set a timer and began typing code. I feel like throwing myself into learning to distract myself and consistently working for the same length of time in the holidays is the smartest thing I can do both for my sanity and for my progression. It’s not easy to concentrate when you are tired though. Fifteen minutes in I heard a strange yet familiar noise, the sound of pressure building up, almost mechanical, I cocked my head to one side, was it the underfloor heating? the boiler? And then the penny dropped and I realised it’s the bloody dog about to throw up again. Running into the lounge to a bright pool of yellow vomit next to the xbox I kind of chased him out of the room. He threw up another two times en route to the garden. Rug cleaned, floor cleaned I sat down again to learn about stack traces and scope, I’m so tired I don’t think anything can have possibly gone in.
This weekend I finished reading ‘The 5am club” by Robin Sharma. Possibly the worst writing I have ever read in my life. There is a reference to an inspirational quote from some notable person on pretty much EVERY PAGE. I love an inspirational quote but a crappy storyline and crappy prose don’t elevate them. I think it’s been written like this so it’s acts as an inspirational parable but truly it is absolute dross. Hal Elrod’s the miracle morning is much better. I want to start getting up early again. I was getting up early a couple of years ago until it genuinely felt impossible but I used to get such a lot done. Sunrise runs at the beach! learning and refining! Feeling like I was making progress. Then everything fell to complete shit and all I wanted to do was sleep. This break is my time to reclaim that practice, today wasn’t the morning for it clearly but hopefully I’ll get back my fitness and clarity if I begin again.
Apart from that the plan is to get the house into some sort of order in time to relax over the Christmas festivities. The house is always a mess at the moment despite some serious decluttering. I’m going to listen to a bit more of “Have you heard George’s podcast” while wrapping the kids presents, I thought about going into town and dropping into the gym but I think town will be horrific the last weekend before Christmas so I’m. not. doing. it!