A Comfy Kind Of Restless

HI 🙂

Woohoo!  The last day of November!! It’s finally vamoosing for another year 😉

Youngest is also 4 years and 8 months old today…a tad close to school age for my liking.  Why can’t I wish time away for the things I detest, but at the same time savour the things I love…?!  *contemplates app ideas*

I was hit by some inspiration, I think I have a slight inkling where this story may go.  Another character has appeared, and is conversing with Marylin; while being a bit rude.  Always a good sign…

From yesterday, I liked:

Healthy plants did not festoon Marylin’s windowsills, no roses peeped in at her doors.

The family cat preferred to dine at the neighbours’ and the coffee mornings she hosted never seemed to get past the stilted stage.

One never knew how much was enough…when one’s spotlight was truly at rest.

Or when a critical review might ruin one’s whole week.

So I launched into today’s writing slot with:

“How far are you hoping to run with ol’ Shakespeare, then?  He’s ancient, you know – he hasn’t got much mileage left”

“What…?”

“Your musings.  You’re depressing me”

Marylin shifted in her seat, a little embarrassed that she’d actually articulated her thoughts.  What would Suzy know about the trials of motherhood – in her kitten heels, on a freaking Tuesday?

Plus, Marylin had made a choice, hadn’t she?  Better to suck it up and lie. That was what they expected, anyway, these non-kid-infested people.

It’s what Marylin had expected…

1. Don’t gush unless I let you.
2. Don’t show more than 3 pictures per outing.
3. Don’t complain unless I do. (Oh, and you plan to go straight back to work. Like, in 3 days or something.  Because that’s being a proper member of society, who contributes)
4. Don’t make me feel like my taxes are paying for you to live.
5. Don’t even suggest that your husband might be able to pay for your upkeep for more than a day or two. (Cos that makes you lucky and different and therefore cancels out your RIGHT to complain ever.)
6. Don’t wear frumpy clothes.
7. Don’t make out you are more tired than me…

Because then we’ll get in a big competition mode where I’ll make you feel incensed (without permission to vent here because I won’t understand anyway…)

(220 words)

See?  That flowed better, as shown in the word count for the 20 minute stretch. 

The well is sending me up a bucket or two…

[Pic is from here]

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