2024: the year so far

Twenty twenty-four has been a weird year so far.

Last year, I got really into running and I read plenty of books. This year, I've read almost not at all and I've been kept off the roads and trails of East Durham by a wonky knee that demands slow reacclimatisation. I don't know what's going on. We're like seven weeks into the new year and I've barely posted to the blog, even.

It's not like I'm just sitting around, either. Sam and I have undertaken a ton of small jobs around the house:

• Fixing the sink in the kitchen
• Whacking the various moles preventing the Porsche from starting
• Replacing furnishings in the bathroom
• Laying slate tiles downstairs
• Installing new wastes and traps in all of the sinks throughout the house

The start of the year has also coincided with a moderate expansion of my responsibilities at work, which has been a drain—but it's a drain that I recognise. I can account for it in the emotional rebalancing at the weekend. I feel like I should be able to work around it. But I've no desire to read any of the four or five books I've got on the go, when it comes to lunchtime or the quiet hour before sleep—

Instead I open up YouTube, almost by reflex, and click through to a video where a bearded Iowan revives a Jeep Grand Wagoneer, or where two pseudonymous Europeans play Age of Empires II. Like I've got nothing left in the tank for any activity that demands even a little bit of engagement from me. I'm still busy; I'm still getting things done; I'm not unhappy or despondent or unmotivated; but my priorities have been reorganised without my consent, and I feel disengaged from what I thought my life was about. What's up with that?