I must be one of the rare few that get more stressed by doing nothing rather than doing everything. Having spent most of my adult life chasing time and complaining about it, I’m now getting all teary eyed at not being able to. I come from a family of toilers, I’m not good at not toiling. What adds to the frustration is that it is not by choice and like most in my position, I need to earn to pay bills. If only I was ambidextrous but alas not and the continued pain in my right arm has made working limited. Thanks for nothing Doc.
Restricting things physically is not beneficial to my brain. As someone who has always wanted to write, you’d think this self inflicted ‘time out’ would be the perfect time to pen thoughts to paper but no. Brain has gone into blog fog. Actually it’s more like a pea souper at the moment. Every day becomes an endless one of menial daily tasks on auto pilot to the point where you just want to vent expletives at some one. Virgin Media got quite an ear full but that was their fault and deserved. My apologies to the poor bloke in India or Outer Mongolia who took the call however.
My lateness in writing this however is not entirely down to my endless education in time wasting, I went to my father in law’s funeral on Monday. It was a beautifully poignant service, the Ton Class Association banner and whistle got the tissues out, the naval cap atop the coffin and my sister in law doing her reading finishing most of the congregation off. But it was the wake afterwards that sent the mind bubbles into chaos. For those who don’t know hat a mind bubbles is, listen to Jo Whiley on Radio 2. Basically it’s all those thoughts that randomly run through your head. Anyway, I digress. Again. The last time I saw the Stewart family was at Tony’s funeral so you’d think I would feel the bond wouldn’t you? Nope. I felt like an outsider, an alien intruding. The sheer size of the Stewart/Stein family would scare the most dedicated journalist (a few celebs in there) to defect to the Daily Mail but it was the realisation that my only real link with the family was through the death of those we loved. And then there was the helplessness of watching my son who would rather have been on Mars that have been the subject of no weddings and too many funerals. My only saving mind bubble was that, although I had imbibed a little too much of the grape, would anyone really remember me?
Truth is, I was relieved to get home the following day. I missed the crazy of my dogs. They don’t judge or ask awkward questions. It was the first night since T’s death, I had spent a night in bed alone and I couldn’t sleep. I missed the irritation of scratching, sniffing, bed hogging and sleep woofing that has kept the mind bubbles at bay. I missed being home even if it was doing nothing other than time wasting dog cuddles and long walks….
Widow plus woofs 