I am feeling hot and flustered - sick.
I am breaking into sweats; I'm in a trance; I don't know what to do or where to start doing what I am supposed to be doing; and to add insult to injury, I am going around myself in circles.
In short, I am doing exactly what I told myself weeks ago that I wouldn't be doing. And what am I doing now? Blogging about not being able to do what I told myself I would be doing a gazillion of times before - and I am not getting anything done.
I have six suitcases open across the apartment. I have a vacuum cleaner standing erect in the middle of the living room. Now if that vacuum cleaner had a spine, it would clean up the place and put all my stuff in the suitcases right? I also have to wash some clothes - I mean how bad would I look returning home, with a bagful of dirty clothes? And the dish washer is wide open, hitting me and bruising my legs every time I try to squeeze into the kitchen.
The limo is picking us up at 5pm - and that gives me five hours to clean, wash, shower, pack my bags, do some pending work, fix a quick lunch and set off on my long trek back to Wonderland.
And what am I doing now exactly again? Zilch. Nada. Nothing. Cypher. Zero. I am panicking. Big time. I am flustered and tired and fed up and have had it.
I just want to shut my eyes and feel the ground at the Bahrain International Airport. And then all these feelings will be bottled up for next time - and replaced with sheer anger, frustration of a different kind, and a feeling of loss at being in a place I love so much and feel so useless that I can't do anything constructive in.
Welcome home, I suppose.