In a rut?

It may be hard to believe, but I've actually sat for several minutes considering the choice of photo for today. I found a choice of four: the one I've put at the top of this; the lighthouse on the Gantocks (rocks just offshore of Dunoon pier; photo taken to see if that was a new buoy between the light and the shore), a massive new house being built on the West Bay, with interesting marks which I thought were graffiti but which are probably instructions to the builders, a massive spider sitting beside my microwave while I was making dinner (an aaagh moment for me, and a photo I can't use lest I be condemned for lack of care for the arachnophobes among my acquaintance,) and ... my dinner. Really. So I think I might be forgiven for choosing yet another sunrise, this time with the hull of a large cargo ship gleaming in the light off the Tail o' the Bank. 

Actually most of the day was a bit of a trial, from the 8.15am shop to cooking dinner ten or so hours later. I had a long period of sleeplessness in the night, around 3am - I don't know what woke me but I felt so rotten that I couldn't drop off again. Both arms ache from yesterday's jags so that reaching  for things off the (insanely) high shelves in Morrison's was agonising and left me in a foul mood. The news was equally foul, and the publicly expressed views of some partisans on either side even more so. I lasted till coffee before taking some paracetamol, which helped a bit.

I had some unexpected and cheering phone calls on the back of one friend's email clearly having been hacked and my efforts to contact him, which involved two more calls to find out his new phone number, and Himself and I spent some time considering the choice of music for our upcoming family funeral - when you're involved in a church in the ways we are, you have a lot of experience. 

After lunch we roused ourselves from torpor to go round the town for a few things: 2kg of flour makes quite a rucksack-full, and I lugged it with me as we went down to the sea and then back along the terminally sad-looking main street buying such fascinating things as draught excluding tape. This gave us less than a mile, but the weight of the flour was dragging me down, so we parked it in the house and went out again, round the block so to speak, and racked up another mile. 

Before dinner I familiarised myself with the wording of the Balfour Declaration of 1926, learned a little more about the extreme nature of the online responses to the Middle East conflict, felt sickened, and switched off for the evening - except that I found myself sucked into the new serial The Cobra Rebellion  on Sky. What happened to good old escapism? 

Must try harder ...