These idiotically trivial things just send me into full nervous breakdown mode. Like this desk drawer clearing nonsense. I got one side done, more or less, but when I tried to fit the drawers back in place, one became immovably stuck open, so that no I have even less space. One drawer's sticking out, and another is on the bloody floor for me to fall over. I really want to cry, like a total feeb. Nobody can come into the flat for gods know how long, and even if they could, there's no one to help. Flamin' fuck! I should, of course, be giving thanks that I have somewhere to live, food and drink, and congenial cat company, but I get so worked up about this stuff. It seems I get more and more helpless and loony. Baw!
In the end I didn't work out in the park because I was afraid of contaigion. That's another thing. I was reasonably sensible in the first lockdown, I think, but now I'm getting more like R Next Door, just hiding away completely. I'm so afraid of catching 'it' now. I'm already too weak to look after myself properly and what about Moon? Grizzle...
Anyway, I half-watched the 25th Anniversary PHANTOM OF THE OPERA concert last night. There really are some lovely melodies, must admit...Set me thinking about the brilliant designer Maria Bjornson, who died terribly young. I remember being shocked, as it was really sudden, too. She was a fascinating character, always seeming very thoughtful and melancholy. I thought she was really good-looking too, and always wished I could somehow make friends with her.
Today I watched the 1951 SCROOGE for a while, as as my usual custom. It's a proper little masterpiece,and Alistair Sim was an astoundingly good actor.
My Christmas present turned out to be a little 'sample' packet containing fourChristmas buscuits, which at least look like they might be nice, and a pack of Dentabits treats for Moon. So it goes.
Here's hoping everyone staya safe, and we soon enjoy better times.