Ships that pass...
We've been busy okay. Very, very busy.
Doing what? I hear you ask. For starters, busy going through the mountains of paper one tends to accumulate on a daily basis.
I have realised that most of my paper comes through the letter flap on the front door. I keep thinking that if I nailed that down it would take care of the paper problem. Ian would argue that if I just sorted through it each day THAT would take care of the paper problem but that is a little too practical.
Until last weekend I had not dealt with my paper for a year at least and, much to my horror, I discovered that it was endlessly HUGE. There was paper spilling out of the boxes under the bed, piles of it in the spare room, unopened envelopes of junk mail and bank statements in shopping bags at the back of the wardrobe and at least half a dozen stashes of receipts where I had obviously emptied my purse with the intention of sorting them out. Huh.
So I spent an entire Saturday afternoon knee deep in what amounted to, well, a goodly corner of the Amazonian rainforests. And to think that what I sorted through was just my paper. I'll let Ian share what he has waded through since last week.
Poor boy. He looks a little wide eyed in a manic kind of way at the moment. We seem to whirr around each other as we attempt to sort our respective stuff out. We have not had a proper conversation for a few weeks now. We do talk. But they seem to be short conversations made up of short sentences. They go something like this;
Ian: Have you cancelled the cable?
Me: Yes.
Ian: Good.
Me: What about the gas and electricity.
Ian: Done.
Me: Good.
Ian: Don't get me started on the council tax people.
Me: Okay.
Ian: Good. Lets eat.
We then mince around the kitchen passing off another meal of pasta with pesto or a jar of Lloyd Grossman as healthy and fall in front of an episode of Lost in an effort to ward off the reality that in just over 2 weeks, our life as we know it will end and we will be flung halfway around the world and be expected to start a new one.
I can't tell you how anxious that makes me.
Truth be told I'm looking a little manic at the moment too. I seem to have lost the will to live the every day mundanity. I stare into the fridge and try to remember what it felt like to be able to make a meal out of 2 or 3 ingredients. Which I suspect is the reason we are eating meals that take no more than 3 and a half minutes from jar to plate. I just don't seem to have the mental energy to think about how much of any vegetable I need to make a meal for 2. That probably explains why I have put on weight and am craving coffee at midnight and red wine at 10am. God help me.
We are off to see James, PJ and the kids tonight to spend, what amounts to, the last couple of days we will be spending with them for a long time. I am so looking forward to seeing them and spending quality time in their wonderful company. I just want to avoid thinking about the moment we have to say goodbye and simply enjoy each moment as it comes. I really do.
Doing what? I hear you ask. For starters, busy going through the mountains of paper one tends to accumulate on a daily basis.
I have realised that most of my paper comes through the letter flap on the front door. I keep thinking that if I nailed that down it would take care of the paper problem. Ian would argue that if I just sorted through it each day THAT would take care of the paper problem but that is a little too practical.
Until last weekend I had not dealt with my paper for a year at least and, much to my horror, I discovered that it was endlessly HUGE. There was paper spilling out of the boxes under the bed, piles of it in the spare room, unopened envelopes of junk mail and bank statements in shopping bags at the back of the wardrobe and at least half a dozen stashes of receipts where I had obviously emptied my purse with the intention of sorting them out. Huh.
So I spent an entire Saturday afternoon knee deep in what amounted to, well, a goodly corner of the Amazonian rainforests. And to think that what I sorted through was just my paper. I'll let Ian share what he has waded through since last week.
Poor boy. He looks a little wide eyed in a manic kind of way at the moment. We seem to whirr around each other as we attempt to sort our respective stuff out. We have not had a proper conversation for a few weeks now. We do talk. But they seem to be short conversations made up of short sentences. They go something like this;
Ian: Have you cancelled the cable?
Me: Yes.
Ian: Good.
Me: What about the gas and electricity.
Ian: Done.
Me: Good.
Ian: Don't get me started on the council tax people.
Me: Okay.
Ian: Good. Lets eat.
We then mince around the kitchen passing off another meal of pasta with pesto or a jar of Lloyd Grossman as healthy and fall in front of an episode of Lost in an effort to ward off the reality that in just over 2 weeks, our life as we know it will end and we will be flung halfway around the world and be expected to start a new one.
I can't tell you how anxious that makes me.
Truth be told I'm looking a little manic at the moment too. I seem to have lost the will to live the every day mundanity. I stare into the fridge and try to remember what it felt like to be able to make a meal out of 2 or 3 ingredients. Which I suspect is the reason we are eating meals that take no more than 3 and a half minutes from jar to plate. I just don't seem to have the mental energy to think about how much of any vegetable I need to make a meal for 2. That probably explains why I have put on weight and am craving coffee at midnight and red wine at 10am. God help me.
We are off to see James, PJ and the kids tonight to spend, what amounts to, the last couple of days we will be spending with them for a long time. I am so looking forward to seeing them and spending quality time in their wonderful company. I just want to avoid thinking about the moment we have to say goodbye and simply enjoy each moment as it comes. I really do.
posted by claudy at 1:40 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home