It is 2:46am and I am just sitting down to blog. One of my favourite songs from high school is playing on the radio and my kitchen and bathroom, despite 11 hours of work on them in the past 2 days, looks the same as they did on Tuesday.
I feel like I could run a marathon… well I guess this is how it would feel if I was ever ready to run a marathon. Which is unlikely. I think I would sooner birth an alien life form than be capable of a marathon, but I digress. My point is I am not tired. Instead of weary I am feeling that particular kind of restlessness you feel eating breakfast before a big trip – eating faster won’t achieve anything other than indigestion, but none the less you are chomping at the bit to get things underway. I know I have worked because my feet are sore and my back is aching. My skin has a beautiful glow to it, that on closer inspection is just dust particles stuck to the film of perspiration (yes ladies perspire, they don’t sweat) on my skin. I am finding it difficult to focus, as the paragraph above demonstrates beautifully, but I am not tired.
This is delirium.
Delirium is terrible and wonderful state that I haven’t experienced for a while. I remember as a teenager reaching this state just before the hangover kicked in after a HUGE night where nobody slept until after the sun came up. I remember delirium overcoming me after crying until the tears ran dry and the pillow felt like a sponge. I remember this feeling creeping in after a weekend where the only times my partner and I ventured out of the bedroom was for water and to go to the bathroom. (Yes, love really can sustain you. For a few days at least.) This is how it felt the night my son was born.
Delirium allows you to function, but without focus.
Your conscious mind is sleeping on the job (it just puts the body on autopilot) and your whimsical, emotional, symbolic unconscious mind has control.
Perhaps that is why I found myself almost tearful looking at my tidy kitchen. Very little has changed, but every single object has been removed, cleaned, vetted and returned. Everything has a place and a purpose. My favourite little corner of the world (my kitchen) could not be more perfect.

