Whenever I get the chance, whenever everything is in order, whenever I'm finally out of the house doing something simply for fun I always find myself asking the same question. Sometimes I'll ask Lee, sometimes I catch myself saying it aloud.
Today was one of those days I caught myself, sitting in the middle of a green in Portrush, looking out at the sea, asking myself (out loud, bet I looked quite mad)
''Why don't I do this more?''
It's a completely redundant question. I should know better by now than to even ask myself. But then I remind myself that is a pessimistic view.
By asking the question, I'm acknowledging that I'm out and I'm ok.
By asking the question, I'm acknowledging there is a problem there.
By asking the question, one day, I might just find an answer.