After my very successful day of work on Sunday, this week has already gone downhill.
I am still very pleased with what I achieved, even though I need to rake up all the grass cuttings. I couldn’t do this yesterday because, luckily, it rained. I say luckily because I was more than a little shattered and appreciated the excuse.
Then, the list of other jobs grew, like Pinocchio’s nose.
At the same time, I began to wonder why I always managed to get the lion’s share of these jobs. There are three of us in this house!
I have been wondering why this seems to matter more these days. Is it because it is all getting harder for me? After all these years, why am I beginning to resent so many things?
It came to me this morning, that this has nothing to do with unfairness. It is to do with the jobs themselves. If I like doing a job, it is a joy to do. If I don’t, like changing all the sheets on all of the beds, I am not a happy bunny…
Another reason I have a king-sized hump these days is my deteriorating eyesight. Just one eye, mind you, which makes it worse. I also have an earache, and I suspect they are working together to drive my fragile brain to an early grave. Much as I hate to bother my long-suffering doctor again, I think I may have to.
Even if I say so myself, I am remarkably good at suffering—it’s a case of having to when you get to my age. Unless, of course, it stops me from doing what I really love, and that is writing.
I am writing this post with one eye closed, and I can tell you that this is not the way to write anything…
This is me, doing a little rant…
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