the only one

I spent the long weekend trying to catch up with an enormous backlog of paper: clippings, notes, replies, queries, oh yes, and cheques, even in this age of online payments. I missed writing my blog-for-the-day yesterday because I was writing so much other stuff.  Now it's 3 a.m. the next day and I have a stiff neck and I'm wide awake and grumpy. I'll tell you why I'm grumpy.

I've complained about this for a long time but I haven't written it down.  I can't get the right note of grievance, bitterness and righteous indignation into a written report. But I'll try. I can't suppress it any longer, not after spending the entire weekend "keeping in touch". And I know I'm not good. I can tell because of the dates on some of the clippings I am only now sending to people; they go back 3 and 4, sometimes 7 years.  (I still need to get a round Tuit.) But...

Am I the only one who even tries to keep in touch?  Am I the only one who feels guilty because I fail so miserably?  Why doesn't someone try to reach me?  Why doesn't anyone else feel guilty?That goes for having people over, too.  I think I must have someone for tea or wine or dinner and sometimes I do.  Does anyone ever think about me in that context?   Not that I've noticed.

Well, you can tell I'm tired and stiff and midnight-weary.  I'll feel better in the morning. Maybe my neck will feel better. 

Anyway, I forgive you.