We limp in, or stumble in, or edge in sideways with a hand over one eye or maybe we skirt around the edge for a bit and then fall in. Any which way were still in. A start is a start and humble shaky unsure beginnings I say are perfectly good beginnings
What I do know is that I need a fair bit of quiet and time at home to keep me humming along nicely - - - but life doesn't always throw you that bone.
We have a way here in Australia of making molehills out of mountains. We fix things with a slap on the back and a "she’ll be right". And we fall apart later. Life can scatter us like the chicken feed I throw across my lawn of a morning. Life can have us all over the shop as we might say here, distant from ourselves, further away than our arms can reach.
Seems I've created myself a work uniform. Totally by accident which is how I do most things. It started when I turned up at church with a hole in my shirt about a month ago. I was way early which never happens - so I walked to Big W where I happened upon two soft stretchy, ever so comfy long T-shirt’s, cut in a way that they actually have some shape and don't look like bags when they're on. I bought one black, one light grey.
Now I don’t have a balcony or a view of any exotic looking European buildings
What I do have is a great ugly back verandah that the dogs have the run of, It holds fine views of the two rabbit cages, a pumpkin vine gone wild and a lawn that nearly always needs mowing.
But she might be a beauty yet.
Now if that sounds like we were out in the wilds, far from civilisation, fending for ourselves, sleeping rough and cooking over open fire
We were at a somewhat secluded camp ground an easyish 20 minute drive from a major town with powered site and hot water a short stroll away. We cooked on a gas stove and boiled water in my quite well fitted out caravan kitchen.
Yes I got me a couple of questions
WHY am I the only person in this house who knows how to change a toilet roll properly. Why when there's a perfectly respectable container for the dog food does my boy leave the bag of food next to it.
They say necessity is the mother of invention.
Well so is 15 year old boy constantly in your earhole about the sheer indecency of having the smallest bedroom in the house, maybe the whole town, possibly the universe