It rolled around again. Like the proverbial bad penny.

All corners of the house make me feel guilty on days like today.  Piles of clean laundry that never got put away.  A pile of dirty laundry that never got washed.  Grass that brushes the back of my legs and shins when I walk through it, that I can see moving with the wind, but the lawnmower resolutely stayed in the woodshed.  Life admin that never got filed, and dealt with.  The fine I never contested.  The pictures I still haven’t framed.  The albums given to me that I still haven’t listened to.  The messages I never replied to, even though they were lovely.  The dates I didn’t check and confirm.  Shopping I didn’t shop for so there are holes in the cupboard.  Homework I didn’t check over.  The new phone I didn’t charge and get fired up because I have not the foggiest how the hell it works.  Two bags of clothes I didn’t pack because it’s Sunday and I don’t want Sunday to bring the dread it did when school was looming in the morning.  I don’t need two bags glaring at me from the hall, reminding me that my week in solitary has rolled around again, much like this rainy Monday.

I did, however, read Lil chapters of her book about witches, under the covers of my bed, in the middle of the day.  And I sat around the table until 3am nearly rolled around, talking and talking, putting the crazy-assed world to rights, drinking wine and Guinness and gin.   I climbed in the tub with my little girl and washed and combed her hair in the warm water, like I always used to when she was tiny. I listened to my elusive owls under the stars at the bottom of the garden, when I really should have been in bed – and the uncut grass didn’t bother me one bit as I waded through it.  I made a damn good plan for a money making scheme for my big girl, a plan that we embellished all weekend, turned into a project and got excited about starting. Happened upon a muncjac deer and was privileged to watch it a while.  I took Lil to spend the money she won in a drawing competition that’s burning, no, SEARING, a hole in her pocket. I had filthy, disgusting funny conversations with my sister that would curl your hair.  I told my mum how much I loved her. I coveted shoes with embroidered snakes slithering up the too high heels with Amber and we berated the fact that her feet are two sizes bigger than mine, so we can’t share them.  We worked our asses off renovating, getting manky and achey and sledge-hammer happy; getting on first-name terms with the guys at the local tip.  We made proper pizza, the three of us, and ate it on our laps, in front of the telly.  I taught Lil the words to Big Yellow Taxi.  And I listened to this song twenty times or more, flat on my back on the living room floor, because the ceiling is low and music sounds so good in there, and the words are beautiful.

And with that in mind I decided the guilt can go and fucking do one.  I think I got all the important stuff done.

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