I turned on the radio this morning while driving and I heard the tail-end of an interview. The last sentence out of the interviewee's mouth were 'les béquilles de mon âme" - the crutches of my soul. Crutches as in things used to walk when leg is broken.
Soul crutches. Hmm.
I think mine used to be chocolate and coffee. And we know what has happened to those. The chocolate is done and the coffee is down to one a day which, let's face it, is so not doing the job.
So I think all the snot rivers and complaining and funking have all really just been an outward symptom of my inner crutchlessness.
Time to find a new crutch.