Tempers Frigid

Of course we forgot to put the clocks forward but it didn’t matter very much as I decided to lie in bed all morning rather than go downstairs and face the kitchen with 3 dishwasher loads distributed across its length and breadth from last night’s family dinner or the huge goggle-eyed lump sitting in front of the television watching the Australian Grand Prix. I can’t see the attraction even if Jenson is on the button.

I decided to have a long leisurely bath but given that our current bath must have been designed with pygmies in mind there was nothing long about it – not much width wise either before shedding some ballast I was almost resorting to rubbing myself down with a tub of I can’t believe it’s not butter before getting in to prevent the need for lifting gear to be brought in. When I lean forward the water rushes forward like the Severn Bore and lifting one’s arse cheek tends to require a releasing shuggle which creates a noise akin to a sink plunger. Anyway, I had a bath without interruption and SO came up and did the decent thing and washed my hair; well at least he held the shower head while I did the work.

Having a soak allows for putting the world to rights and perhaps because the clocks went forward my mind went into overdrive and I began to ponder on why I always feel so wound up about not doing enough with my free time. Friday evening I am usually so cream crackered after a week’s work that I don’t feel like doing much other than flopping on the sofa and trying to stay awake (which doesn’t always work). Saturday morning I take my sister for a counselling session (which I encouraged her to attend and hence taking her) When I get back it’s the weekly laundry – I don’t know how my mum managed it with only the kitchen sink and an outdoor mangle when I was a child and I have memories of her scrubbing the detachable collars of my dad’s shirts with Lifebuoy washing soap to remove the line of grime which was a mixture of Brylcreem and sweat and also using a washing board no wonder her hands were rough and calloused.

Saturday afternoon I generally take my daughter and granddaughter shopping or SO and I hit the shops to spend money we haven’t got on things we don’t need. We talk about going out for food or the cinema but we usually end up remote and distant – SO commandeers the remote and I keep my distance in the kitchen watching Forensic Detectives or (the shame) one of the telly selly channels. Sundays tend to be “our day” and we generally find stuff to do together either in the house or garden or out and about.

I do wonder if the time vampires have got me as I never seem to achieve all the things I think of doing in my spare time and I know I have a lot more to spare than other people. I suppose I feel rather guilty that I don’t pack enough in to the evenings and weekends. I have been thinking that I could have let the World Wide Web take over my life and have stopped living it as a result. Do I need to restrict my online activity and get a life?