Have hit a lockdown flat. No specific reason and I don’t think I am alone with this feeling of nothingness, but that’s what it is. I’m bored of the repetitiveness of the days and weekends, it’s hard to always find the extraordinary in the ordinary.
Cat appears at the back door with a dead bird. He looks pleased with himself, at least it’s a different emotion to the indifference I feel. He’s flicking the bird about like a toy even though it is lifeless. He then proceeds to eat the head, and leaves the remainder on the ground. I make sure to remember not to accept any kisses from him today. I think I am actually disgusted with his behaviour.
I’ve reintroduced running, I know it helps my mental health and I’m also hoping it will help with my weight, which just doesn’t seem to want to shift, no matter how much deprivation I put myself through. I head out to run but underestimate how cold it is, and it’s really windy. By the time I reach the field it’s raining, I’m only wearing a vest so I abort and will try again later in the day. I return home and tackle some housework. I get Husband on board and he gets on with the front room. I go back out to run with a bit more clothing on at 5pm, the wind has dropped, and I manage 3km with a slightly better time than Wednesday’s effort. We get kebabs to celebrate. I cannot think why this weight won’t shift.
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