Slipping away

Today has been a bit of a write-off, really, being one of my double shift Sundays, earlies this morning, to be followed by the night shift I'm in the throes of preparing for now. Then it will be nights all week, which basically means putting my life on hold until next Sunday morning. Work is a necessary evil, to a point, to provide the wherewithal to live, but having not done too much of either working or living for the past couple of months, for reasons well-documented here, weeks like the one I'm just embarking on can't help but make me think that my ever-decreasing stock of future days is being frittered away, my time wasted. OK, I could, in theory, live for another fifty years, but I doubt that my health and lifestyle is likely to facilitate that, and, in any case, the prospect of old age and senescence isn't an alluring one. After all I've lost in the past year and a half, one of the few remaining substantive assets I've got left is my occupational pension, why bother adding a few more percentage points of value to it if I'm too old - or too dead - to enjoy the proceeds? Call me selfish, but the attraction of a year or three of self-indulgence, of 'me time', is strong.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B