Housekeeping

Well, this is exciting. What an adventurous two days I've had! Yesterday, I took a fair number of photos of some plants and flowers in the garden, threw more seedy food on the garage roof for the birds (and possibly some cats, the weirdos) and... I did some ironing! Fourteen tops! I know! It's a rare thing these days, dear reader. It's a sad but true truth, so it is. This moral boost, such as it is, has been a good thing, and all the more fulfilling because, for me, it's not a frequent thing. Yesterday and today have made me feel good. And then not so good today. Today I am Miss Grumpy Socks.

Frustratingly, I forget my limits and attempt to do more than I can realistically achieve. Inevitably, I fall short of my targets, and then feel as if I've failed. Woe is me and so on. That's probably a depression thing, the not feeling good enough or like my efforts are worth anything. Gladly - just call me Pollyanna - that doesn't happen often, either, which I owe to Citalopram for keeping me mostly level and "OK". And quite groggy. What with the endometriosis, polycystic ovaries and depression, it's a wonder I'm not permanently on the floor every day inspecting carpets while weeping more than the quantum-locked angels.

This year is practically full of events I may not be able to attend because of said endometriosis, fatigue and general painful mess it provides. A gorgeous friend of mine is inviting friends to eat cakes and drink tea to raise money for charity. I would like to go, but I think it may not be possible because... Well, you can probably guess the rest of that sentence. And I've been invited to The North for a thing to do with endometriosis. Again, despite wanting very much to go, I'm not sure I'll be able. The concern of all this possibly-letting-down-people is hidden at the back of my head, like a forgotten tin of soup I really meant to have one day, a while ago, but never found the right time to have. Then I find it. Again. And it's more dusty and more troublesome than the last time I saw it but now I can't ignore it and I have to face it and deal with it. I have to get that can opener. Or the can't opener, as I sometimes prefer it to be.

Ignoring the worries and chores is so easy. Of course, sorting them out like letters in to a folder or filing cabinet is not fun, particularly, but it's like housekeeping - it has to be done to maintain order and a sense of health about the place.

"I'll do it later."
"The letter? Oh, it's in the drawer... somewhere. Oh, it's fallen down the back? Oh. Shame..."
"No, it's all right - I'll do that, and I absolutely will not throw it in the box marked 'Do it later. Probably.' Probably."

One of the things I've put off for a long time is sorting photos on my laptop. Because I have a lot of photos on my laptop. I've had to unload hundreds of photos and files and megabytes from my computer to the tiny but massive hard-drive to make room for yet more photos of cats and insects and clouds in the same poses, on the same leaves, and in almost the same formations, respectively. It's taken me hours already today to file and sort and move and copy and save photos and films, then make sure they're all in the right place. All that while having to remember to make tea!


Today was so warm and sunny, it was gleeful, and I sat outside while I drank my first cup of tea of the day. With my camera and RSPB book, I sat there and all I could hear was birdsong. It was a veritable orchestra of blackbirds, blue tits, skylarks, jackdaws, crows, woodpigeons, collared doves, goldfinches, greenfinches! It. was. b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l. Even hours later, in the afternoon as I sat by the window, I could see and hear sparrows chirping away, deep in conversation, unaware of a human sitting so close to them, enchanted by their charm. It's just lovely.

Wearing my chunky-knit cardigan and Dennis the Menace-esque top, I absorbed the delicious warmth and spied on a wasp hovering around the euphorbia. My heart almost skipped a beat when one of my favourite birds, a goldfinch, landed in our biggest tree. Red metallic feathers on its head glistened in the Sun's brilliant light, and yellow flashes on its wings shone as bright as our biggest star. The pretty bird didn't stay longer than 20 seconds but it arrived, and delighted me, and delights me still, hours after it happened. More photos to upload, edit, file, sort, move.

The Sun's heat and rays do seem to affect many people in a positive way. Snow is magical, for me, but I do adore being able to leave the house without a coat or a jacket. And Summer always seems to be the season full of weddings. As I closed my eyes and listened and smiled, I thought of more events this year. I've been invited to three weddings and/or receptions, which thrills me beyond reason, and not just because I can wear pretty dresses, hopefully some heels, and look like a proper girl instead of being made of comfortable trousers and a bobbled cardigan in its four-thousandth year of existence. It means some of my most lovely, kind, beautiful friends are getting married. And that fills me with joy and happy nearly-tears each time I think of them all.

There's also been a thing I've been doing, which I can't share with you yet, but I shall, when it's done. It's taken a fair bit of my time to do, lots of concentration and quiet thinking, and has been an incredibly enjoyable challenge. And a bit of an ego boost. Hoorah for that, what? And, as if that nice boost were not enough - and it is - I've discovered I'm permitted to to some work, if I feel able, and earn up to £95 per week while on ESA. It's a boon! As with the decision to pay me the benefits a few years ago and now, this being permitted to work doesn't mean I can, and it doesn't mean I'll suddenly be applying to work in an office or in a shop or any place, actually. It means I can try to do stuff like I used to and maybe feel better in myself, at least until the next period of... well, period. I haven't drawn anything for so long that I can not remember the last time I did. Photography with my handy digital camera is easy. It's so easy it's almost obscene. But then, I always want to edit them, sharpen the image, throw out those that don't meet my standards, file them, move them, sort them, and then there's more to do when I'm too bloody tired, dammit!

I've mentioned before, a while ago, how I miss drawing and painting. I'm scared I mightn't be any good any more. The way to find out is to try, I know that. I've sort of hidden all my pads of paper, the paints, the brushes, the pencils, the pens. And I feel guilty. In order to do those things, I have to spend time not trying to help around the house. That means more for others to do. And that's not fair. However, I don't do that much anyway, precisely because of how I feel, and that's the thing which stops me getting all Arty Farty again. Hello Circle, you vicious git.

It's hard to feel like you're making progress when things don't seem to change. Am I making progress? Am I changing? I don't know. I want to. Some things simply can't change, like the pain, and I know that. I know, too, that the need for pain relief won't change, either, nor will the feelings of fatigue and insomnia and ohhh, shut up about it all. I need a cup of tea. And a sketchbook...



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