When life gives you bluebottles …

“I’m standing up here before you today… with a very troubled heart. You see, my friends… I’ve always insisted on… taking responsibility for your lives. But, I’m really… like a first-time parent… who makes mistakes… and tries to learn from them. And like that parent… I find myself at that moment when I have to decide. Do I hold on… or do I trust you to yourselves? Let go and hope that you’ve understood… at least some of my lessons. If we don’t start trusting our children… how will they ever become trustworthy?” Reverend Shaw Moore. Footloose. 

It’s been a week of revelations for me.

A bit like Reverend Shaw Moore, I type with a troubled heart.

I’ve made many discoveries over the past few days. They include …

>> I hate painting even more than I thought.

>> I am a very bad painter.

>> Painting ceilings with a gammy neck is a literal pain.

>> I will do anything I can to avoid painting. Especially if it involves prosecco in my sister’s spa followed by chicken curry and roti (bless you sister)

>> Dogs are curious creatures who will put experimental feet into paint trays then trek them through your house.

>> Cheap paint rollers might seem like an excellent choice from a budget point of view but are a BIG mistake from every other point of view. (They drip paint everywhere, including in your eyes and give VERY patchy coverage and blisters.)

>> Impetuously deciding to get your toenails professionally painted minutes before painting your ceiling results is unwise as it results in annoying polka dot effect.

>> Someone has deceived me via Housegoeshome.

>> Bad things happen to good people. Life – unlike Santa – doesn’t discriminate when it comes to doling stuff out.

Anyways, that’s a long-winded way of explaining why I gave up painting today and headed to my happy place – the beach – to buffet myself in the waves.

When I got there and discovered a “Bluebottle warning” sign, I sat in the sand and shed a self-pitying tear or two.


Fortunately, despite the challenges the universe has sent me – chronic health problems, workplace sociopath induced anxiety, marriage breakdown, having to paint ceilings as budgetary measure, bluebottles etc etc etc – I regard myself as a very lucky woman who’s been blessed with more advantages than many.

And I am loved.

And being loved makes up for an awful lot of other shite … even having to paint your own ceiling because you can’t afford to pay someone else to do it … oh, and farking bluebottles messing with my happy place.

Song of the day: Spandau Ballet “True”



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