Item – So, we went on holiday. More or less.
Item – First stop was my mother’s, to make sure she hadn’t split her stitches while single-handedly building a dry-stone wall or something. She was tired and sore, and very disgruntled to find she was still tired and sore (less than a week after major surgery! Imagine!) but she was resting. More to the point, Trouble had been making her breakfast in bed and fetching and carrying for her. Excellent!
Item – Trouble however finds seeing anything surgical, even a nice clean dressing, err, troublesome, so my job, now that I’d turned up, was to help Mum in the shower. (And do housework. And pick apples. It was all a bit random).
Item – My aunt turned up after a couple of days and took up the baton of Dealing With The Patient. So H and I went down to see his parents.
Item – And then we got to go on Proper Holiday. In a B&B – no washing up! No bed-making! No moths! – with much lounging in restaurants and admiring the views. And sunshine! The British climate went completely daft and instead of the usual post-equinox glum drizzle, we had a whole week of blazing sunshine. ‘Strordinary. Sun-hats, sunglasses, thick layer of factor 30, ice-creams blazing. It was fantastic.
Item – WTF moment – the ensuite bathroom was actually in the bedroom. There was a sturdy floor-to-ceiling partition, and the bathroom area was both large and luxuriantly furnished (furnished? Is a bathtub furniture?), but it was still in the same room as the bed. Like most mammals, I don’t care to shit where I sleep.
Item – Of course, while we went on holiday, the moths didn’t. You know that bit under the bed? The one everyone always forgets about? (Even the owners of the B&B we were staying in had a little blank about under the bed. I found this out when I dropped a knitting needle and had to go down on hands and knees and scrabble under the valance and voilà! Dust-bunnies. It cheered me up immensely). Anyway, we got home, and had a good look under our own bed for the first time in [redacted out of utter shame]. Moth banqueting heaven. We are so going to have to replace the carpets when we finally move out.
Item – While H heaved the bed about and hoovered under it, I sorted through the yarn that had also been stored under/beside said bed, and most of it was OK (hurrah for plastic bags!), but I think we have posh moths, because they’d eaten the hand-dyed cashmere, the alpaca, and the shetland lace-weight, and I actually cried a little as I threw the ruined stuff away, but left most of the sock yarn and anything purple. What the hell is wrong with purple? Snobs. Anti-Goths.
Item – The idea of going back to work tomorrow is making me feel ill with anxst. Anyone would think my job was horribly stressful and my colleagues all arseholes. It really isn’t, and they really aren’t. It’s just so very Not What I Want To Be Doing anymore. But there it is, taking up massive amounts of time and energy and being unsatisfactory and making me feel like a sell-out and a failure. Oy. To think I’ve just been on holiday being all relaxed.
Item – I have lots of other things to tell you, but they each deserve their own blog-post, also, some thought and general rescuing of the blogging mojo, and it’s going to be a busy week. With added in-laws at the other end of it. Apologies in advance for general aura of lassitude, déshabille, and inadequacy floating over the blog like a grey haze.