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I should know the limitations of my body by now. But no. In an effort to prove I am not weak, I completely over did it.

Sure, the garden looks lovely now, my month of manual labour rewarded. But I’ve now been ill with fever for two weeks since the day I pushed myself too far.

The kids blame my lifestyle, of course. “You never go out to mix with people, so you have a weak immune system.” No sympathy there then.

Disappointingly, I can barely walk down the garden without feeling breathless, let alone pick up a garden fork to finish my work.

Sadly, this is a familiar pattern. So desperate to do a job properly that I bust a gut to bring it to completion, only to then crash spectacularly.

It seems this applies both to work and personal projects in equal measure, such that I never seem to actually finish anything. Everything I touch abandoned at the 90% mark.

So in the garden, the weeds are fighting back in my absence, undoing my hard work. And nearly complete novels languish. Nearly complete websites abandoned. Nearly complete DIY left undone.

I am the kind to crash and burn repeatedly. If only I could take the middle ground, working slowly but surely at a gentle pace. Maybe then I might achieve something in life. Instead… Crash… Burn.