I’m not fresh and ready to work, though I must work. My body aches from housework and the standing that it involves and the rain outside doesn’t help much. Grant me the stamina I need just to get through this last hurdle. Please.
I wonder if they intend to get worse. Saturday morning cleaning takes its toll on them, leaving me hobbling. I can bear it. I must. But I do wonder if they intend to get worse.
It threw me. It was a reality, and kindly meant but it threw me. And now? Now I am calmer but worn out. Enough histrionics. Now I must just work. And finish it. Finally.
I long for one, to make one, to be in a space where there is nothing. Just to be empty. For a little while.
We’ve begun watching the Woody Allen film ‘Whatever Works’ featuring Larry David as the main protagonist. He is blunt, rude and obnoxious, inevitably really, as that is what David does. But there is east, at least for me, in watching him. It isn’t laugh-out-loud funny but it amuses me. Odd really, I seek goodness but find relief in his, often outrageous charm-lessness. He seems to do so to. A silliness really but work is heavy, so why not. Whatever works. Whatever works.
There is such pathos in her use of the word, and to us, over the phone. She isn’t apologising for a wrong doing but for the fact that she couldn’t manage to eat her soup at lunchtime. There is a regressing happening, though I suspect from what she has hinted at, that she wasn’t a meek child, far from it. But she is becoming one now. Sorry, she said, I couldn’t. And my heart aches.
I cannot look at the news footage. I cannot. But I can see it, in my head, and in my sleep. Poor loves. My heart bleeds for you.
Do I want it for the sake of it? Is it just a wish to be somewhere else, doing something else and being someone else? Or will it bring genuine richness, a new outlook and much needed optimism. I am in the doldrums. Perhaps it is to be expected. I have worked long and hard on this project and the rewards, along the way, are few. I just need to keep steady and wait. Wait and see.
She would have minded, she would have minded very much. I thought of them all, well not all, not all are monarchists these days, I am sure. But I thought of people of her generation and what his death would mean to them. A sadness no doubt, he said that he seen wreaths laid, and flags half mast. A new king. Without celebration.
Categories
Money (worries)
He thought that they hadn’t paid in his state pension. He’d expected it to be in his account yesterday. Oh, perhaps it will be Friday. No. Nothing. We find the number for him to call, his NI number, everything, only to discover that it was paid in at the beginning of the month. Poor love, it distracted him. There is comfort in the fact that the system wasn’t awry after all, but not about an expected amount having already been spent. Bless him.