The biggest surprise in my life right now would be if I found something to write about.
Currently I am afflicted by a condition I call compulsive future life prediction.
I guess it’s a flavour of anxiety.
If psychological conditions were cocktails this would probably be one of those elaborate jobs where you spend more time watching it being made that it takes to drink it and afterwards you wonder if you really drunk anything other than a pretty colour.
In a futile attempt to transmit its nature to the reader I would describe it as trying to predict all the possible ways that my life can unfold all at the same time.
The end result is probably the same as trying to multiply two really big numbers in your head, getting one of the carry digits wrong and starting all over again. And again. And again.
But it does have its silver lining: when it ends it leaves me so tired that sleep comes pretty quickly, assuming of course that the sun hasn’t risen by then.