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.
Oh don't get me started on that one - you'll never shut me up. I could wax long and loud and lyrical about what I think I haven't got and what I haven't done and what I don't have in terms of smarts and looks and get up and go and how I nearly always feel about 20 steps behind everyone else in the whole wide world. But where would that get me in the end. What would that achieve except to bring us right back to where we are right now. And friend I say that's as good a place as any to start.
And with this last Christmas I was reminded all over again that being with the people I love wins out hands down without question over having everything go to plan OR ticking all the boxes on our "this is what we do at Christmas" list OR having the house all spruced and Christmas ready. Of course it's lovely when things do go to plan, when the food turns out how it's meant, when the house shines as I like it to and guests and or children, take your pick, behave the way they should. Lovely yes - but not essential to joy shared and thanks given and a good time being had. Not even nearly.
Here's the length and breadth and height and depth of my wisdom at present on how to live life when time seems short but things to do are relentlessly plentiful. Do one thing at a time. One thing at a time and I seem to get as much done as when I'm trying to spread myself between seven things all at once. Heres how it works.
Two's company, threes a crowd Except my front garden didn't get the memo Its wild and totally overgrown at the moment with fishbone fern that people still pay good money for in the shops, with agapanthus and seaside daisy and some other long reedy things that provide a bit of a screen from the road. They crowd in on one another - the more the merrier apparently and are only kept from going completely mad by the garden bed edging laid in a curvy romantic fashion by me years ago now.