Half Past My Bedtime

Somehow itas almost 1am on Friday night (or should that be Saturday morning?). Where does the time go? Iam struggling to cast my mind back over the last few days a to find anything of interest.

Life has been a bit like that recently a dragging myself from one day to the next, and not really being able to put the pieces together afterwards. The weekend away at my parents seems like a long time ago.

Iave been slowly moving towards content authoring at work a writing stories for the website and the various social media channels weare starting to explore. Itas funny really a all the years emptying my head into the keyboard have resulted in some recognition at last that Iam not bad at it. I think the hardest thing to get across to those scheduling me is that writing takes time a it needs to be scheduled a itas not easy.

Away from work the house continues to drag itself from one day to the next without completely falling down. We had a gas engineer visit this week to service our central heating. Upon finding out I immediately set about tidying the house from top to bottom a lest the engineer think we live in a house thatas just been burgled. After moving heaven and earth for a couple of hours, and making numerous trips to the bins outside with bags full of rubbish from teenage girl bedrooms, I collapsed in front of my work computer and waited.

The engineer didnat check any of the rooms.

During the last visit the engineer had checked the radiators throughout the house a this time they didnat. I might have said a few choice words when I found out.

At least the house got tidied up. Of course by the next day the teenagers had waved their magic wand again, and weare back to where we started a but for a couple of hours the other morning a while I was the only one in a the house wasnat half bad.

While I often rail against the piles of astuffa all over the house a making it look untidy a in a strange sort of way I wouldnat have it any other way. Weare all interested in different things, are involved in different hobbies, take part in different things, and so on. The house reflects that. I would hate if we lived in a spartan, tidy, empty house. Thereas a story to be told about pretty much any corner of any room in our house a or at least the stuff stacked in that corner a or the other corner a or over there a or under thata| you get the idea.

Anyway.

Itas getting late. I want to get up in the morning to watch the racing cars in Australia. The F1 circus has arrived in Melbourne. I know somebody in Melbourne a I wonder how she is? I should reach out.

Iam terrible at reaching out. With so many things going on all the time around me, I often get swept up in what everybody else needs, rather than what I might like to be doing. Iam trying to push back against that a little bit, but itas hard a itas not in my nature.