So, he walks in the door, having been at work all day, and no sooner does he drop his things, when I start screaming about the builders. Even I, in my crazed and shrieking state recognise that this is really not fair.
I have been living with builders since October and it's nearly Christmas and my home is a building site. I sneeze, cough, splutter, rant and rave about the state of things, to no avail. Building work is a bit like death and taxes, inevitable and unpleasant, and if you own a house, it comes to us all.
How can I nurture my spiritual side, how can I become a serene, meditative person if I have to deal with the other side of myself. Meditation in the marketplace sounds fine in theory, but the reality is a pain. I escape most days and find solace in the many cafes nearby. I have taken to buying second-hand books. This feels entirely justifiable to me. Shopping for clothes and shoes, which used to bring such delight, is nowadays pretty pointless, but books... Ah, books, books allow me to feel hopeful for the future - I will read these in my dotage, I will still have my eyesight, my mind will still be working, I will have a beautiful and peaceful environment where I can relax and enjoy productive leisure. No wonder I read fiction.
I will soon go and apologise to him. I really am a shrew, untamed unfortunately. I actually think I have been remarkably patient through all this building work. The fact that it will look nice in the end doesn't really help much. I am still waiting for the layer of plaster dust to settle and then maybe I will.
What brilliant idea you had to share this way!
ReplyDeleteNow I dont have to worry when you dont write to me and I think as winter draws nearer that you are disappearing further down the hole of SAD.
I can just check in and see you are okay despite whatever whatevers are also there.
xR