One of the enjoyable and entertaining things about living in my head is that it will, at the slightest provocation lead me off on wonderfully entertaining voyages of imagination. Virtually everything that happens to me, it plays out good / bad / entertaining alternate scenarios, and I tend to happily go along for the ride.
This is all fine until we get into househunting. Or anything distracting. Where my brain takes an idea and runs with it. Thinking about the chapel I was looking at before, I’d planned out several potential interiors depending on the layout of the surrounding buildings; even knowing that I’m definately not going to go for it (not a wise resale choice) it’s still… well… ideas continue to circulate.
But the other house which is a potential purchase; I’ve already layed out the modified floorplan, the front garden, considered several choices for the back garden, the interior has been constantly flicking in and out of my head.
This would be fine, except I’m trying to read a paper on the experiences of lesbian mothers. Trying and just about winning. Except that every few minutes my tired brain goes ‘oh, god, this fucking course is interminable… why don’t we think about what we’ll do if we do get that house… oh, yes, Hrm. So, we could maybe knock that wall through and make that into a utility room and then we could pop up a little dinky wall near the end, so we’d have a downstairs toilet that wasn’t off the kitchen, and if we…..”
Gaaaah.
