Discombobulation
Disoriented and confused; is that how travelling is meant to make us feel? It's not jetlag, when Portugal is in the same time zone as the UK and the Azores are only an hour behind. Rather, after extending both our trips with sojourns with the family to maximise time with Grandotty, I reckon that we probably only spent 5 nights at home (correction: in the rented premises) in the course of a month.
Coming back now to a house where I thought we had everything sorted and at hand, I've realised that the period of time away was sufficient to totally flummox me when it comes to identifying where anything might be. Is it here and, if so where? If it is being stored, just where exactly?
Goodness, I couldn't even remember the postcode for the property and had to look it up.
Today Mister E was certain that he'd brought head torches to have to hand at the rental; think boy scout mode for power cuts. Ultimately we established that they hadn't made the journey with us, but at least it proved that it's not just me who's wandering around in a state of bafflement.
I suppose the questions that arise are: Have we reached an age where however stimulating travel might be, it wears us out mentally. Is brain fog a common symptom in retirement regardless? Were we just so destressed whilst away that we can no longer function unless horizontal? Is all this partial moving house just too much for the decaying grey matter after all?
If nothing else my befuddled state has emphasised once again the benefits of simplifying. The less we have (who wants head torches anyway?), the less there is to think and worry about. Can an empty head lead a busy retired life without dire consequences or will those brain cells re-engage? I suspect I may be about to find out.
(Image by Tumisu from Pixabay)
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