Hello again 😉
I am perched on my stripped bed, surrounded by boxes and notebooks and general pieces of nonsense. I have been trying to instil in our boys the habit of moving furniture to vacuum behind it, and dusting etc. This week they were to help me and hubby with the main bedroom.
It, of course, started off well: the kids vying for the heaviest boxes from under the bed to help carry through to the nice open spaces in their rooms, arguing goodnaturedly about where they should be stacked, and so on. They even reminded me that the boxes needed dusted before they were stacked, and eagerly wet microfibre cloths to get the job done.
from Random Word Generator
Then, after less than half an hour, they decided that mum and dad had kindly set them up an OBSTACLE COURSE and proceeded to play a noisy game of tig amongst the rubble!
There was a half-hearted attempt to help me vaccum about an inch of carpet, then they told me it was all too much hard work and instead went outside with their (equally bored) dad and left me with displaced furniture and possessions all over the top of the house. Sigh.
Why do they all assume I hold cleaning in any higher esteem than they do?! That my time is any less precious? That I have a higher boredom threshold…?
I am going to try and sort through a few things before bed tonight (oh, and put the duvet etc on…) so it doesn’t look like I’m getting to bed before 2am. Again…
The words that came up today were relatively easy to fit in to a poem. But the subject matter became a little scary. I definitely need to get some more sleep…
Have Waste Friendly Traction Mind Cultivate Utter Mutation Cousin
It is hard to look at all I have
Remembering I waste.
This friendly town I moved to,
Gaining traction as I aged;
Has much good to consume the mind,
To cultivate much joy,
But also tempts an utter horror –
My ‘mutation’ could destroy:
The understanding shoulders
The smiles, the trust, the hugs;
If I don’t keep slaying Black Dog
(Cousin of the friendly ‘doug’)
If I let the Dark Pooch off the lead
I’m sure he’d run amok
Mowing down these cheery faces –
(I hear a ticking of a clock)
Instead of knowing that he’s shut away?
I often hear him growl!
And one day, maybe, he’ll burst out
Commit deeds all find foul…
Notebook page
Do you find it hard to be your best self, and worry that there are just some parts of you that are too awful to look upon?
Do you find yourself wanting to run for cover as you are not sure if you can trust your words to come out properly today?
What do you do to fend off the ‘Black Dog’?
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