All the upheaval of my ‘minor’ furniture rearrangement is over. Aside from a small table top’s worth of paperwork and miscellaneous detritus that somehow seems important for me to keep, everything else now has a place to be. Last night I chilled out on my sofa just like I imagined I might when I first pictured moving things around almost a week ago. Yay, it works.
I knew the sofa worked as a sofa already. I’m not that stupid. I’ve been here four and a half years, of course I’ve checked the functionality of my sofa before now. The rearrangement works. There is plenty of free floor space now for me to do something I’ve been telling myself I’ll do for about three years – learn Tai Chi off that internet so that I can do some very gentle exercise without making things worse for my useless abdominal muscles.
Or I won’t. I’m evidently good at putting things off. And I am already embracing quite a bit of change at the moment so overloading myself with the new isn’t necessarily smart.
The first person to see the effect of all this moving around of stuff today was my dear friend Olly. He came over prior to us heading for The Double Locks for a quiet Sunday lunch by the river. Great setting, great company and so good to catch up with the very best of many friends I made in my time at university.
Now that my therapy has begun it seems a tad ironic that since November when I first approached my doctor about the downturn in my mental health I have done quite a lot of work myself on trying to discover what the issues are and how I generally respond to them. Not that this makes therapy redundant; if anything it means I’m more likely to benefit from these upcoming sessions than if I’d only spend the last few months with my head up my arse.
Yes, some of that time I HAVE had my head up my arse. It smells bad there and isn’t the best way to move forward but these things happen when you’re a part-time contortionist.