Wednesday, 2 May 2018

The song echoes through my head as I paint anything stationary in the house. (Beware, people - keep moving!). White gloss coats my fingers and most of the rest of my anatomy.

We're working our way through the house, cleaning, redecorating and chucking out. William Morris, the Victorian Arts and Crafts designer, said: 'If you don't perceive it as being useful or beautiful - bin it!' Well, no. He didn't say: 'Bin it.' but you get the gist. So we're binning. I've binned stuff from the conservatory - picture frames I'll never use, piles of computer paper courtesy of Husband's old job (apparently useful for artwork). Folders of magazine pages I fancied. Chucked. Binned. International dolls I collected as a kid - cancer shop. Books we don't read because we use the internet. An awful lot has been recycled or gone to the recycling tip for the same, or  dispatched to the local cancer charity shop. 

The dining room is bulging with furniture and sundries from the conservatory, as is some of the hall. We've left just enough space for movement to get into the hall from the road, and for us to get to the main computer. Alright for my menfolk - they're skinny as the proverbial rake - but I'm what you might call comfy, nearly down to buxom (my ultimate goal). 

I'm feeling fine. Don't knock it, I say to myself. The day goes something like this: Get up before morning coffee. I'm so much better about getting up. Morning was never a good time for me in the past. Now, I actually wake up HAPPY! Miraculous! Not used to that. Get dressed, brushed, scrubbed and ready just before going out for coffee around 11am. Coffee. Lovely. Spend hour or so with Husband discussing Life, The World, and Everything else. A bit of shopping. Home. (In the past I could never have returned home for lunch. I had to go out for lunch. Take a day to do something. I couldn't be at home for too long). Lunch. Gloss paint stationary things. Work on my laptop - the novel, the blog, something creative. Work in the garden. By that time it's coming onto early evening and time for Flog i!, Neighbours (yes I love it. Want to make something of it???),  Eggheads etcetera. 

Point is, I've been feeling fine at home. That's why Husband has been happily singing C'est La Vie to himself while fitting nice, shiny, pale green marble effect
cladding to the bathroom wall. I can hear him while I'm slapping white gloss on
wood downstairs. He's being silly. Such fun. It's a novelty. I've never felt like this - ever. It's taken five years to get here. I ain't knockin' it. Anxieties  have almost vanished (I'm still nervous about returning to archery, but who wouldn't be after umpteen years?). I'm feeling better about my novel editing. More confident about it. Many people love the idea and have read chapters and enjoyed it and my subconscious seems to be finally accepting that. That used to be a main cause of my downs. 

So yes - gosh. I'm not used to this...🙂

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