in a fug.

ye gods, I'd forgotten how drained you feel. It's the sense of being in a permanent daze, of being a stupefied automaton at the thrall of something very small and very precious with a wail that is heartrending, soulrending, mindshredding and completely impossible to ignore. And the lengthening days, particularly the mornings, make it harder. Just like Angus, Sean is an early riser. I've spent the past few days wandering round in a haze of inattentive dullness, save for a few moments of clarity while, of all things, doing the shopping. Mind you, wandering round Tescos is enough to put anyone in a daze. Unpacking my things onto the conveyor belt before having them scanned and then repacking them (and before shoving them in the car, then dragging them home and unpacking them into new places, then unpacking them as and when and dumping the remains in one way shpae or form), it was as though all the sounds and voices came into sudden focus, as well as the colours and shapes around me, and I could almost sense the secret thoughts, worries, anger, anxieties, misery, joy and fears of those processing their shopping.
Anyway, I'm knackered.
Here's a pic.