Why one should remember one's keys and other assorted bits.....

So we are back to the ordinary stuff today - the painting and the chaos and the rain and the full wash baskets, and the story of the keys.

But first let me just say a few things I should have said in yesterday's post. I understand, people. I know that there are some relationships which are just different, can't work, broken, destructive, damaging and downright appalling. Some mothers who never actually understood what being a mother was all about. Some daughters who never had a chance to treasure their mothers. And some daughters who, despite the love of their mother, just walked away. And I feel such sorrow that I can't fix things for those of you in the middle of them, hurting so badly, or just wishing things could have been different. I want to morph into a Mum to love you all. Broken hearts I can't fix.

Just know that I see you all. I understand and I love you for telling me about the pain.

When I wrote the post, I was talking about how I felt, how I reacted to one post. I should have acknowledged that there were some relationships which could never work. So I apologise for that.

I really need that magic wand at times.....................

So here I am in my painting clothes again. I got up early and seriously hoped that it was warm enough to wear the Tshirt and trousers which I have managed to get paint all over. Sigh. I back into things. Brush against things. Lean on things. Wet paint things. So now I have the official garb and it is COLD. The high for today is 13C. Ridiculous. I must go and get out of them now that I have managed the 2nd coat of paint on the upside down nook. And the step stool I have had for 3 years and never got around to painting. It is also pristine white. Well, with a hand print on the leg but we won't go into that.

The house is a tip. There are pieces of wood everywhere. And then, to top it all, I saw an idea on Pinterest and had to try it. Spray paint old tins. I have old tins. So I dutifully cleaned and lightly sanded the Quality Street tin, and sprayed it. Once. Twice. Three times. 

It is in the bin.

At least I had the red spray paint here already.

Epic fail.

But I tried. I wish it had worked.

Then I got out the piece of wood I had for the little shelf behind the corner bench and the trim to give it an edge. I knew there was a reason why I hadn't glued it together yet, but couldn't think what it was, so I glued it together and clamped it anyway. And at the VERY moment that it reached the setting point to resist explosion, I remembered that I needed to cut the trim to go around the 2 back uprights on the bench. So now I have to cut it glued. And chisel the edge off. Screech.

But I gave it the first coat of paint anyway. So that is balanced across 2 chairs in the kitchen as well.  My kitchen looks like a workshop. And the floors....... groan. Anyway, as you can see, I have not been lolling about eating bonbons. It is too cold to loll about. And there are no bonbons or anything closely approximating a bonbon in the house. But there is hope on the horizon, because they keep telling us that the wretched jet stream is starting to move north and away from us and that summer will follow swiftly behind it. I have yet to see any evidence of this. Hope is a wonderful thing. I tell you, the day I put my sunshade out in the garden, with its cover on, anticipating sun, it started raining and has not stopped. Since March.

Yesterday, Jean and I went to aquazumba at dawn. They are getting really fussy now - we have a roll call because people book and never arrive, the waiting list grows and there is no time to contact waiting list people 5 mins before the class. We are good. We book and go. So, because Jean was off on a Holiday Club for Older People thing run by our church - like a play scheme for grown ups where you get to try out different things - painting, knitting, table tennis - a whole host of things - she dropped me home and roared off down the road. She was teaching the knitting bit. And would be there all day.

Back to the roaring down the road. Normally we chat a while and she waits until I get into the house, or comes in for coffee, but yesterday she left at speed. And my house/car /kingdom keys were still in her car. I waved my stick in the air, but she didn't see me. It was raining. I called her mobile but she didn't answer. 3 times. (It turns out it was on silent for the day). And then sat on the doorstep wondering what to do. I knew Peter was at work, and Glynis can't drive yet, but I called her anyway and as luck had it, he was working from home so came to my rescue and left me his key. So I could get into the house at least and lock the door. I had a hair appointment in the afternoon and thankfully, the rain held off, and I walked there and home again, but so help me, if I ever win the lotto, I will buy 28 benches and position them all over the village on the paths I use if I have to walk there. There is nowhere to rest.

And now I sound like my mother, because she is right, the paths slope and that makes walking extremely awkward. I keep veering into people's hedges, and look slightly intoxicated, no doubt.

But it added a little colour and excitement to the grey wet and miserable day.

 AND can you believe, for the very first time in my life, I bought some hair spray. Me. My mother and sister have used it forever. Me? Never. But I have, after 58 years, been alerted to its essential-ness (I just made that up but it sounds exactly as I wanted it to sound).

I am A New Woman.

Well, I would be, if I got out of the painting clothes, put on ordinary clothes, make-up, had a cup of coffee and some lunch and actually sorted out my hair.

 Just don't tell me all of you have been using it all your lives please.........