Itchy Feet


 

And fingers.  And skin.  And everything.  It’s all itchy.  I am agitated, I want to get away, I want TO GO.  I must have A PLAN.  People need plans.  But my head is either too dull or too busy to locate the plan-making brain parts that enable this calm, cool planning.

I’m here, there and everywhere.  In the past two days I’ve googled stuff as disparate as “bacp”, “quiet retreats”, “how to change your identity (my personal high-pitched favourite- I must be OFF.MY.ROCKER)” and I’ve looked up other options like which travelodges have cheap rooms, not really caring where they are, just somewhere different.  

Honestly, the fevered level of ideas pinging round my brain you could do this, you could do that is pretty overwhelming.

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