We all had plans. Most, if not all of them have been scuppered. Says she towards the middle of the 11th month of the year. Funny how the world throws curve balls – this particular one, so small the naked eye cannot see it. Do I really need a microscope to estimate the damage that is plainly visible the world over? I’m writing about something I don’t want to name but everyone relates to. 2020 might be the ideal score in vision but we didn’t see this coming did we? Ironic or what
Plans of every kind were the first casualty of this plague (still can’t believe I’m using that word in the present tense), as more than life got in the way. Everything put on hold yet the clock keeps on ticking and nobody gets the chance to call Timeout. We’re getting there but not in the manner that was anticipated. Now, 8 months in, when you blink a week has gone by and you still haven’t cleared out the wardrobe, or painted over the sample paint splotch you smeared on the sitting room wall. A work in progress 🤔🤪 becomes life in progress – at a much slower pace.
I’m talking to myself a lot more often. Is it lack of social contact? (no? Okay who am I kidding here🤪🤪 – it’s perhaps bordering on hell yeah 😩).. Notwithstanding all this, the constant stream of conversations I have with myself is a bit like a comedy sketch. Everything comes in waves; good days, bad ones, productive streaks followed by why bother moods. I’ve settled into yoyoing around a loose radius of kilometres from home. It is hard. If there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, then I’m in the wrong bloody tunnel!
But there’s always a remedy – this time of year (any other time is good too) toast comes into it’s own. There used be a time when toast was a solid meal. In fact now is one of those times for a carb coma. Be right back 💡
If you’re still reading, I forgive, allow and even encourage the urge for a slice of hot, buttered, very fresh, white sliced pan toast. There’s nothing like it and 1 slice is never enough. Justify the second slice, as not wasting electricity on an empty slot in the toaster, but you’re on your own if you have one with 4 slots 🤦🏻♀️
Caution: It takes an age to toast if you’re watching it, but get distracted for an “instagram/facebook second”and you have delayed lift off of a carb comet that, sets off the smoke alarm in the kitchen and leaves you scraping the burnt bits off with a knife AND ruining the butter that’s left in the dish …hate that!
For the record, if you noticed my mentioning the “11th month” and “8 months in” a few paragraphs up, then yes, blame the toast – it makes you forget things 🤔 like pressing buttons that publish posts when you had originally intended to, and sends you back for another slice! So, here I am, (same place, arse still in chair) on another lap around the sun, celebrating (?) a month named after some boyo called Janus; a god, no less, of beginnings, transitions and endings. Mind you, if Mr. Google is to be believed, this guy Janus is usually depicted as having two faces. Go figure!
This could lead to another problem though…
p.s. on a positive note, the sitting room HAS been painted, but the wardrobe remains on the TO DO list. I’m pacing myself 🤪 I’m going to press the button now in case I get distracted again. I have it down to a fine art at this stage – the being distracted bit, but you already knew that.
clodaghstraveltales 