I'm inside one of my quasi-regular news blackout phases, partially the result of being put in a walking cast for two months. The connection may not be obvious, but spending a lot of time off your feet means being put into a hyper-observant, hyper-ruminative mode. Which means you're already on input overload and have enough to muse and masticate and roll around inside your head--you don't need economic woes and wars clunking around in there too.
Being under sedentary restrictions also mean going a little stir-crazy. It means internal whinging about weeks of missing the bike commute you've come to love, missing walks with the pooches, missing hiking and hours-long cooking sessions on your feet and generally feeling nimble and coordinated. The manfriend calls the walking cast my Crap Shovel, and he's not far off. It may be therapeutic, but it also collects debris, makes my back hurt, and causes me to trip over things (or sometimes over nothing).
And today is the first day of the rest of my cast-free life.
The sun is shining, the breeze is warm, and I can (almost) forget about the juniper pollen because I'm so damn happy to have a normal shoe on my right foot. To celebrate, I bought my first pair of clipless pedals and took the dogs on a tour of the neighborhood. Life was good before, but life is good and not tripping over its own feet now.
Getting back to normal activity means (I hope) chewing a little less cud, doing a little less overthinking. Getting back to a proper balance between input and output. Which means to say, finally committing to print all those deep thoughts I've been thinking while my foot was propped up and my mind antsy. I hope to get there soon.