Yesterday I went to the supermarket.
I reached for the same shopping basket as someone else, so I stood back and said, “Sorry.”
I said, “Hello,” to the lady on the checkout. When she gave me my change I said, “Thanks.”
And that was it. In an entire 24 hour period I spoke three words.
But here’s the thing. On Friday and Saturday I didn’t go to the supermarket, so I didn’t speak a single word to anyone. I haven’t spoken yet today, either.
It’s getting on for 3pm as I write this, so that makes it 75 hours since midnight on Friday morning. In all that time, I’ve still only said three words.
There wasn’t anything different about this weekend. In fact, the only unusual thing about the whole three and a half day period was that I decided to keep track of what I said to who.
With the exception on my appointments with Yvonne, I don’t speak to anyone, except people who work in shops, from one week to the next. Or from one month to the next, come to that.
Who knew being depressed could be so lonely?
By the way, this isn’t the post I promised at the end of my last one. Sorry about that. It’ll maybe turn up in due course, in case any of you are sitting on the edge of your seats in anticipation…