Some days I am just to small to hold all of me. Or I need a couple of extra life times. I can't seem to squeeze in all the things I want to do & all the things that need to be done with all the things that should be done & there are only so many hours in any given day for doing any of it. At times like this I actually understand why the Celts would agree to the paying off of a debt in the next life. Why not? It's at least as sensible as anything else.
It's true I do not have a mind that deals well with the prosaic mundane matters of life & just at present it is fully occupied with things that do truely interest me: my book, which has just developed some intersting & intriguing twists, & my research on Solomon's Song of Songs. This silly fluey thing that just will not go away & matters of food consumption do not interest me in the least. Unfortunately they will not go away. I truely resent the time I loose dealing with these boring matters, particularly as I am a very slow writer & a brilliant procrastinator. Now why can't I be satisfied procrastinating with matters that need doing & bore me? Good question.