Walking in slow motion

I'm walking through a mental soup, or so it seems these days.

For what seems an eternity I've been working a rather destructive combination of nights and days. The oppressive heat in my valley has compounded my sleeping issues, and like an unpicked jumper I am slowly unraveling: I know this because everything tastes of newsprint.

You see - In my younger years I worked in the publishing department of the Otago Daily Times. This is a fancy way of saying I loaded newspapers onto a truck. At the time I was still at school, and to this day I still recall waking up the next morning, exhausted, with the taste of newsprint in my mouth.

As the day draws to a close I find myself sleeping fitfully on my bed while the fan whirs in the background. It's 29 degrees Celsius in the house, even with all the windows open the humidity saps you of what energy remains. No rest for the wicked.

The weird thing about this all, is how unreal the world has become. It's like you've come off some mind altering drug, and only now see things as the really are. Of course you haven't, but the view is interesting nether the less.

So while it lasts, my days will be fill of caffeine, paracetamol, and other soup strainers. I have noticed a tendency to stay home and away from others. Absent friends are on my mind (specifically one), and I'm not entirely happy with my lot.

Still, all is not lost. This project wont last forever and there's always the chance that tonight my sleep apnea will finally kill me :)