Tuesday, 16 July 2013
D'you know it's been a wierd couple of days up here in my head.
Lots of things going round and around.
News. Good and not so good.
Things to do, yet not managing to do them.
Wandering aimlessly from room to room.
Picking up and putting back down again.
It's not the weather. I like the happy sunshine, although my poor red knees would probably disagree.
It's like does any of it really matter actually. You know, when it comes down to it. I live a ridiculous life. Of Riley compared to most. I feel endlessly guilty about that. I'm sort of wondering whether to shut up shop here too. I write about all sorts, and I look forward to that part of the evening when I sit down at the computer, log on and let fly. Sometimes irreverent, silly, wistful. A bit of whimsy maybe. Always truthful, with a satin finish. You know, to hide any irregularities.
But lately it feels like just another photograph of a flower. Or whatever.
I'm not making much sense.
Here's the thing:
Today was a good day. It was a lovely day. I spent it my Auntie and Uncle, my cousin and her daughter, with Olly. In the garden and on the Harbour beach. It was a picture postcard of a day, full of splashing and ice creams and catching up. And I loved it all. I loved the fact that I hung out with my cousin, who was the cat's miaow when I was eleven and she was seventeen. I loved that my Uncle, gardener extraordinaire, complimented my fledgling garden. That Olly and Emily had such a great time playing together.
But the black dog can always bite me on the ass when I'm not paying attention. It messes everything up. I have constructed a life that's just big enough for me to handle, so that I can be the Mum the boys deserve and the partner in life I promised to be.
Forgive me. I'm just finding it tough at the moment.