I am trapped in the middle of the longest mini-renovation EVER. It has been weeks and weeks and weeks and WEEKS.
A bloke finally started the tiling yesterday. Woo-hoo!
He kept asking tricky questions like: “What way do you want the tiles laid?” and “Do you want light grey grout or dark grey grout?”
I had absolutely no idea what to tell him. I randomly chose end-to-end and light grey.
The tiler had travelled all the way from Maroubra to do the job and accidentally left his jack hammer and various other essential tools at home. He also had the whole road to himself to park outside my house, but decided to leave his ute right in front of my driveway. Bizarre. But he’s a nice bloke, so I let it go.
He’s supposed to return today and I’m hoping he picks up the pace, because this is all that happened yesterday:
Fortunately I’m not paying him by the hour. Actually, I have no idea what the terms of his agreement are. He only met my builder for the first time this week and was hired on the spot. Words to inspire deep confidence in my heart … or wherever confidence lies. Where does confidence lie?
I wish it lay in me because oh the places I would go.
I have been feeling like a lost opportunist of late.
So many talented former colleagues have been creating amazing things – businesses and books and podcasts and the like.
I haven’t created anything other than two people.
Creating people is pretty amazing, admittedly, but there is a yearning in my heart to produce something with my brain in addition to my womb.
At the same time there’s a yearning in my weary body to do less. It wants to win the lottery that I’m not entered in, put its feet up on an ocean-view balcony and do absolutely nothing for a few months.
It’s very, very tired and perhaps a little burnt out. It likes the idea of writing a book or a screenplay or producing a podcast, but blanches at the thought of finding the time and energy for such pursuits.
It’s struggling to keep up with a full-time job and parental responsibilities.
It reminds the lost opportunist that most people never write books or screenplays or produce podcasts.
Have you ever wished you had pursued your talent for something?
PS Part two of the personal grooming regime has been completed – toes painted, but not waxed. Geez feet are weird looking things.
Song of the day: Pointer Sisters “Slow hand”