Good morning ⛈️
Here we go again.
Another, well, another early start with a freshly-brewed cup of coffee (Morrison's own label if you must know).
I didn't (as usual) have a brilliant night's sleep. One trip to the bathroom but, also, woken by a dream that ended abruptly — I thought my daughter was looking straight into my face and I woke to see her but only to realise it was the wall next to the bed.
And now I'm awake, and ready to face another day of travel, work, the gym (if I'm lucky), cooking supper and then...well, it will be bedtime; I reckon I'll last until 9pm if I'm lucky.
But hey, I'm alive as I keep reminded myself (and you ❤️):
“Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you've felt that way.”
― Charles Bukowski
Oh, one other thing: it's pissing with rain — again; and it's forecast to get a lot worse. I don't mind the weather, neither does Alfie but it's limited the time in the garden, which is looking very sorry for itself. Ditto all those other jobs that have gone wanting.
I suspect this week will be a bit busier on the lawyering front. People will finally wake up and realise that they need to get stuff done. I know that I've got the pleasure of dealing with a 70-page German contract. I wouldn't say it's dull but it's enough to send anyone to sleep and that's particularly the case with the way lawyers like to use, say, 10 words when two will do — haha; the joke is on me!
The house (I know) will be messier this week by dint of the fact Evie isn't here and daughters 2 and 3 will do their usual thing of making a mess but not tidying up. I used to make a point of (a) saying something or (b) waiting to see if they actually tidied their sh*t away. These days, well, it's easier for me to just do it myself: chop wood, carry water — if you get my (zen) drift.
I know that 2020 will be much the same as 2019; the only person who can change the interminable routine is me. But that's not going to happen until daughter #3 finishes her education — 2021. I do hope by then that Mrs S has finally got her head around the fact that I'm done with this life and want to mix things up in more ways than one. I know I always like to push the envelope more than she's comfortable with but the problem I've noticed in us both is we've started to play things way too safe. In other words, most likely because of increased age, our circle of comfort has grown smaller. God help us if we decide to stay put; we both know that our village is God's Waiting Room and we'll be adding to its increasing, stay-put numbers.
Anyhow, I hope you all have an epic week (I don't why I've used that word but what else could I call it?).