I spent the entirety of today watching back-to-back episodes of Doctor Who, never even bothering to shower or to change out of my pajamas. Because of where I am in the series and because I refuse to skip episodes or view them out of order, I had to re-watch "Blink" (a particularly amazing but creepy episode) by myself, which has resulted in a permanent tingling sensation in my lower back. (Yay! I am a scaredy-cat!) No amount of walking around, dancing, or stretching will make it go away. I will most certainly be filing this under "super annoying."
But even if I suddenly started growing an eleventh toe as a side-effect of watching this show, I don't think I would stop. Not now. As winter settles in with its grey and dreary days, I grow melancholy and start to remember the sad things I've hidden away. I remember that there is a hole in my heart left by my favorite friends, who are so far away. I remember that I'm alone. I remember that, while I'm unable to recall what it is I really want to do with life or even where I want to go next, I'm too paralyzed with fear to do it anyway.
Now half of that is a seasonal semi-depression making itself at home in my brain, but the other half is me waking up from a sunshine-induced coma of summery daydreams and autumnal fantasies to face an imperfect reality. (Yeah, this perfectionism stuff, it runs deep. Some lucky therapist is going to make a killing off me.) Anyway, this wasn't meant to wander into a "woe is me" type post. I'm just enjoying my time with the sad and lonely Doctor. Our mutual escape from the doldrums of everyday life will soon be over, but that's okay. I suppose I have to start looking at the marred face of reality eventually. I just hope that face offers me a cupcake and a spot of tea and maybe a back massage.