Goodness, I’m reading some brilliant posts this morning by my regulars (not being possessive by calling them mine – I just mean those writers who I can pretty much be certain will post something that hits a spot I’d forgotten needed itching).
Ben’s conversation he shares today illustrates how we can become so embroiled in worries and analysis that we create metaphorical cesspits of crap, climb in and wallow around bemoaning the stench. I had paused in my housework (I KNOW; SEND ME A MEDAL LATER) to type a couple of emails for work, and print off some VAT receipts before taking a sneaky look at wordpress. On waking over your hours ago, I had planned to disappear into the spare bedroom – minus phone – and continue to create my masterpiece, hence the guilt.
I allowed myself to become side-tracked, but I am not negative or down about it, because Ben reminds me of something. Our own perception of life. Today my kitchen is spotless, domestic washing is circulating inside the machine, horse-rugs are circulating in the three industratrial machines in the barn (that’s my day job btw) dinner is out tonight so I do have time and Sir is out chain-sawing being man of the woods.
I’m going to close on that note and promise you I will progress Lucy from the open doorway of the villa at the vineyard she has inherited (in Tuscany .. obviously 🙄), after poor old Maud passed. She has just pushed the billowing curtain to one side and takes tentative steps inside, her hire car parked in the dust outside amongst the scratching chickens …..