To Live with Fewer Details

Jan 9 2026: That sensation of a gut lowering dislike of the act of living, as if perpetually awaiting some fuckery to occur - I think it is an outflow of the inevitable and unavoidable interactions with 'strangers', a confirming heap of whom are fixated on their best interests, their greatest ease, their comfort.

Jan 17 2026: I should be accepting of this by now, able to navigate the distress and rollercoaster bottoming-out of an unstable reality. Yet trepidation is still my persistent companion when facing tasks to be completed which incorporate the involvement of other humans. How is it that for some of us, the higher percentage of people met over the decades are less than reliable, are lax with the details, defer, expect unrealistically, or disappear as fog on a warming morning?

Is there a way by which I can increase the elasticity of my ability to not see and manage the details when others treat them as optional extras to the process of doing 'life things'? How do these others stumble so expertly through tasks and survive to the end with task complete? What power organised and fulfilled the parts of a job while they were scrolling through an endless page of entertaining snippets showing other people 'doing things'?

Could it even be possible for me to live with less attention? Is this one of those things set by the parameters of my personality, the toolkit of archetypes and behavioural traits I have been handed by genetics, environment, experience, and a specific OverSoul?

To care less about the details, coast with ease-filled ignorance past a repeated 'to do' list, to not dread deadlines and appointments. From where comes that form of life confidence?

When did I stop trusting reality to not be difficult every second that I inhale?

These questions emerge against the backdrop of relocating the household and all effects to a different town. There are so many tasks - a herd of details requiring attention and action to enable a successful and hopefully smooth transition. But can I perhaps be more mediocre in my move, less smooth, more inattentive, less pre-emptive? Can I leave the dust in corners, not prep so much before the pre-pack day, let items be gathered in hurried collections and leave the bulk of the work to what may be one removalist who packs endlessly for one day and most of the next whilst others with muscle and tetris skills stuff things into a couple of truck containers? How much do I need to do? How much can I leave to others?

I like to handle it all. I can be assured of quality and more assured of outcome - that the balls will fall into places where I can find them. But I am also prepping because of fear, that anxiety that says I shouldn't be a bother to others, I need to keep the evidence of my life (my hobbies, my likes, my task-easing tools) manageable and smaller than it looks to me. I need my household to not be such a bother to another that they are careless and dismissive of all those items which have relevance and importance to me and my kin.

And I NEED to not do anything 'wrong', because doing wrong brings punishment. Punishment costs and I feel especially low on resources. Unfortunately, doing right or not doing much at all can also bring punishment; a response dependant on the human being interacted with, or on the seemingly contrary mathematics by which this reality chooses the probability of events and outcomes to unfold around us. Which brings me back to the acknowledgement of those unfortunate sensations generated by the uncertain possibilities of how strangers are going to act and respond within the framework of our important life event - the moving of a household.

What subtext am I dealing with here? I am anxious about having stuff. Stuff gets broken, lost, degrades. Would that matter to me so much if my personality cared less about the details?

Jan 22 2026: I admit to having spent more than an hour tonight auto-scrolling through Youtube. My brain is in decision fatigue. I can't even find the bits and pieces to process how I feel. Moving house sucks at the best of times. We are supposed to be moving next week. Our removals case manager is 'hoping to be able to give us a confirmed uplift date' by the end of tomorrow. The uplift was supposed to be in 6 days time. We were operating under a belief that this was already confirmed. But who knows really.

The next tenants have already started having their mail sent to the house we still live in, so I guess they have more confidence of a removals company taking on the tender and showing up than I do at this point. Who has their mail sent to a house they don't live in yet? Meanwhile we keep shifting the dates of bookings we make to work with the fluid dates of companies who seem adverse to doing the task they are contracted by Federal government organisations to do.

I should be going to bed, not scrolling, not tapping out words with my eyes closed. I think tomorrow I will start it off with a decent go at having a blood-bubbling belly laugh. Then I will pack some boxes - we went and bought our own rather than wait on the Toll chosen removalist. Then I will mow the lawn, maybe clean out the garbage bins, wrap some large crystals and think about how much I intend to stash behind the seats of the car for the journey rather than letting the strangers put them into the back of a large truck. I'm sure they would all be perfectly safe.

Mostly I am thinking about those people whose names I now know who are sending their mail to my house, important mail by the looks of it. That's next level trust I reckon. What do they think is going to happen to it? Maybe they are tired of waiting for the house to be empty?

I have been thinking about the Sigils this week. Don't know why. There is movement in the etha's most likely that is pushing my mind to think about them and broadcast something. But there is also that decision fatigue and a general reluctance to make noise by reminding the internet that I exist.

Wondering at the objective of my human life on a regular basis. I am not complaining, more like tapping out a rhythm of familiar thoughts shared by many who don't have a clue much like me. Yep, definitely time to go lie down.

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