A cliché of a title. Still, it's true. Comparing the amount of time I'm going to end up claiming as my lifespan to the amount of time that may exist, my life amounts to sod all. However, perhaps that's unfair. Maybe I should account for the fact that everyone's lifespan means the same under those ridiculous comparisons, and devise a different scale of reckoning. Perhaps I shouldn't be comparing my 70ish years (maybe less if my lifelong overweightness has been killing me) to the geological scales. Maybe I should compare it to the reasonable sphere of influence one might expect to have in the world. So, let's start from a time before I was born - say when my parents first knew they were going to have a baby - and go up to a time after my death when I might drop out of anybody's memory, records or gene pool.

If that's the case, then perhaps someone young, who I met when I was 70 might remember me for 70 further years. Perhaps a son or daughter would both remember me (you'd think) maybe have children, whom I'd probably meet, and maybe those children would tell their children stories of that idiot grandfather who wrote all those words on that blog so many years ago. So perhaps that's going to add 100 years to my mark on the plant.

If I could somehow create something enduring, then people might remember that endured thing's creator for longer than 100 years after my death. We've all heard of Da Vinci - he wrote that book about Dan Brown.

So maybe I could hope for 300 years on top of my lifespan to influence the world. So, let's measure one's actual 70 years against the 370 years one might have influence over the world from conception through to loss of memory by all concerned. You're still a long time dead! 300/370 - it's more than just a simple majority.

So using one's time profitably makes a heap of sense.

I once wrote a song with the title "you're a long time dead". How many people have done that. Surely that's profitable use of time? Perhaps had I spent that same time meeting women, we'd be well on the way to grandchildren by now, but probably not, since I had a girlfriend when I wrote the song, and I'm not the sort to keep meeting other women just on the offchance that the woman I'm with might grow out of me or something.

But I digress.

Today I hit the wall. After the recording session, I knew I had to get on with doing serious things, but I had no energy. This was probably because I'd not eaten anything all day, trying to rely on yesterday's food and smoothie intake for sustenance. It wasn't enough.

After dropping my friend off at the station so he could return to London with a CD of our 7 minutes of recordings in his pocket, I headed over to a friend's house to drop off some washing (perhaps for the last time, since my new washing machine is out of its packaging and may be installed very very soon). This turned into a mission to fix the ramp that one of the guinea pigs uses to get in and out of its hutch. A trip home with the ramp, the insertion of some new screws (mmm Spax) and a trip back, and the ramp was reinstalled, fixed. That was what I'd achieved so far after the recording session.

I went to get some food.

I came home and ate the food.

I still felt low on energy.

And here you find me, wondering if I'll have the wherewithall to do some DIY, ironing or indeed anything vaguely constructive before I go to sleep. Tomorrow I'm due to be out for much of the day and evening - plans made a fair old time ago. I will be having a good time, but I will not be making "progress". Something tells me I have to get up and get on with stuff. It's just hard sometimes.

I'm still tired, and the food is kicking in, but it's also slowing me down having eaten. I don't want to waste the next four hours, but my inertia is high at the moment.

I guess we'll see what happens. I'll either collapse in a heap of apathy, or steer myself into some sort of useful series of actions.