Gunpowder, guillotine, dynamite with a laser beam

Had some bad days, no explanation, but thankfully the kind of bad days that whizz past in a blur, such that I've had about a week of them now and have no idea where the time as gone. Far preferable to the sort that drag out. It's only miserable when I try to do anything. But perhaps it's getting easier now. The next few weeks are to be consumed by materteral activities. Alexander is coming to Suffolk this weekend and then the following weekend we are going to Hampshire to see him get Christened. Last week was very exciting for young Alex as he got to meet the Queen. She was visiting Romsey Abbey and Alex's Daddy was singing in the choir, although I reckon the 400th anniversary of Romsey's Royal Charter was just an excuse for Her Majesty to meet Alexander, being a great fan and rather delighted that he is about to join her club (The Church of England). Alex got to wave a flag and admire her hat. Meanwhile, we've been wrestling with AJ's existential demons. He's having a hard time just now; there is an awful lot of work to do and not enough time or energy to do it. Worse still, there are all sorts of external factors - everything from the changeable weather to the other people he has to deal with - which are hampering his efforts. Plus perfectionism and a rather complicated inability to ask for help. And thus, the exclamation marks begin to litter his speech, with many sentences ending in a question mark and an explanation mark. Sympathy drains away when questions such as "What shall we have for dinner, darling?" are met with, "How the fuck should I know?!" No, that's an exaggeration; I never call him darling. Actually, writing this down might be a bad idea, because I could so easily caricature this behaviour and that wouldn't be fair. It's not even as if we are having arguments - we're not; he's just doing a lot of shouting and swearing on his own*. Which is kind of comical at times, but not usually at the time. Okay, sometimes it is funny at the time. And it's not unrelenting, not by a long shot. Most of the time AJ is his usual silly self. Today he swallowed the remaining contents of a withering helium balloon before coming to wake me up. That was quite silly. And like I say, we're not falling out at all; he snaps and acts like a git and moments later we're friends again. It's just that he's rather pissed off at life, death and the universe. At least it's all out there and I'm never in any doubt about how he's feeling. Meanwhile, AJ is reasonably self-aware; he doesn't have any illusions or shame about his dodgy mental health. Or doing something about it. He's only been sinking for a few weeks, so it can hardly be described as a depression. Hopefully that can be averted. It's just a touch heavy-going right now. * unless I'm cross enough to join in; I do present a rather angelic picture of my tolerance for such behaviour, but recognising it for what it is, I do try.