Every day is like Sunday

Bank Holiday Weekend.  Something that is like Christmas as an adult, you have a joy as it approaches, yet once it drags its infrequent bottom through your life once more I must ask, is it worth it? 

Unlike Christmas there is not the distraction of presents nor a never ending parade of unneeded yet deliciously covered foodstuffs.  For some reason the collation of After EIghts, family sized tins of chocs and nuts do not make it to the realms of the Bank Holiday Weekend.  There is something misogynistic about days out for an unaccompanied female, I would cycle around a body of water or go for a country walk, but there is this invisible threat that the media has drummed into us.  (Really, how many oddballs can there be, do they have a rota system to loiter in country parks etc?) 

I am somewhat torn between a relief of a days grace from work, and the fear of the deferred workload from Monday.  OK I admit it I’m bored. I have reverted to childhood and as for my lot? they are happily occupied.  I should grow up.

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The sweetest feeling

Well here we are then. In many ways life becomes more confusing as the clarity draws nearer. Actually, confusing is the wrong term.  Life becomes more complex at the point of change.  If only there were a beaten, no Tarmac’d track from A to B; but then I guess we would all be less thankful for our achievements. Does the struggle make the reward sweeter? I don’t know, with the lack of a parallel life to measure against I can only trace this path.  I am aware of the depth of necessity this time, the reward most definitely, unquestionably outweighs all other considerations. I am unwavering.

In other matters: why oh why has my skin reverted to teenaged?  Do I really have to do the laughter lines and plukes simultaneously? Give a girl (woman) a break!  Moisturise yet don’t. A conundrum,  wrapped in an an enigma skin care. Perhaps I need to become all knowing and French on such matters.

Life, skin. It’s all going on here.  Also self answering, nothing could make my goal any sweeter.

Slight return

There is a definite spring in my step. The wind is wailing and a certain maelstrom is close at hand, yet.  I have been rather neglectful of this blog and I guess the possible reason, no, the actual reason is that I’ve been to busy being happy.  Why being happy involves usage of surplus time remains a mystery to me.

Anyway, on with The Agenda; washing machine. Has no door, beat the cooker by expiring first. Relentless reams of darks whites delicates bedding have finally sent it to it’s waterlogged nirvana.  The cooker is still cooookkking; that is to say very slowly add half hour on and you too can eat eventually.  Not boding well for big ole birthday sponge I need to provide for the birthday girl.  Still, cake is forgiving and nobody really says “oh that’s a bit dry” and stops eating it they may moan but fill up regardless. 

 

I still remain on the hunt for the job – it still evades me, but I’m hopeful this us just a hiatus that means I shall be married up to the ideal one,  not another also ran. 

There is a lot of work and preparation to be done; I am simultaneously floored by the amount yet uplifted by the outcome, yep I’m what you could call, happy.

Monday you could fall apart.

So another week.

Another Monday, another time to forget our excesses and start to be good. Why Monday, why not Thursay. What is the deal with hanging so much on one day that to be honest is already burgeoning with issues.

I think we use it as an excuse, a scape goat. I can be bad on Friday and then it’s the weekend so why start then, and so on. I would argue that if there is a desire for change than make it swiftly and without too much thought; this can only lead to delay and ponderment. If I class what the way my existence burns into good and bad then I am really missing the point.

I am actually fed up hearing myself making excuses (in my head, I find talking to myself doesn’t sit well with the masses). So up yours New Years Resolutions, goodbye Monday planning. I’m going to change anything I like on any day I choose because I can.

Where is my mind

Anybody else understand why I can’t quite grasp that it truly is a Friday?  There is little chance of me leaping fresh faced and raring to go from my me shaped mattress at 0630hrs tomorrow; it’s more of a body clock/routine clash that is twisting my melon (man).

I am guessing its fair to say that the average person (I don’t believe it we are all so diverse), but the  basic template against which we stretch our being, gets through life propelled by an inate sense of pattern and routine.  Workers, non-workers, singles and families; we share this common, almost unnoticed time management device.  It takes little to upset the balance.  This is where I am, happy, but unbalanced.

Shut up and drive

Can’t get out of this one.  I have visions of pjs, teapots, newspapers and bacon sarnies.  My puppeteers have Christmas money, that must be spent. Today. At a ridiculously busy shopping centre (mall makes me want to retch).  So I feel I am being adult-napped and forced to drive my frost covered car with purses pressed into the small of my back.

I dont mind driving, but there are unspoken rules – thou shalt not sing in the car, thou must not make drumming beats, thou wilt not repeat a story that we have ever been told before.  Really they just mean the title. 

Wish me luck and bring me caffeine.