This morning my husband threw off the covers, showered, and practically skipped out of the door to return to work after having stayed home with us for a week playing nursemaid. I can’t say I really blame him; having three sick people in your ear constantly with complaints: “I am hungry/ not hungry/ cold/ sore/ snotty/ no-one calls me/ why have you got the heating up so high?/ why haven’t you vacuumed?/ where’s the ironing?/ I don’t want any dinner/ I don’t want THAT for dinner…
And that was just me, folks. Heh.
So today it’s just the kids and me. I admit it – I’m frightened. I’m looking at them like they’re two little bears bashing their way out of a cage with just the flimsiest hook latch keeping them in and any minute they’re going bust out…
On the book front, Surprise! sets sail today from Singapore back to here, home. There’s still so much to do and I don’t feel ready. I’ve already lost a week. It’s like the climax to the end of The Dark Crystal, the three planets are about to come aligned. If I’m ready, if all’s in place, it will be great. If not, well, I can’t bear to think about that!
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It feels quite odd sitting here, typing, writing, frankly. Stringing these (mediocre) sentences together is proving quite tricky. My fingers aren’t cooperating and make many mistakes. Perhaps it’s because I’ve emerged from my bed after that period of sickness and am still adjusting to the world again. It makes me a harsher critic – and an impatient one, too. With myself mostly. It’s hard to set out and press the ‘play’ button again so soon after your body has let you down in such a system-wide way. So I shall try, slowly.
That is if I survive surviving the kids.
