The washing is piling up (shock! horror!) and the to-sort-out-later piles are threatening to take over the street this week because all my spare moments have been devoted to painting the kitchen. Projects like this make me inordinately happy. Sometimes it just overtakes me like a wave, this need to let the drudgery slide (god knows, the washing will be there tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow), and to spend a little time making something less fleeting and just as lovely as a good sandwich. Something that exists after the moment of making, the opposite to so much of my everyday work.
I have been painting and sanding away, gripped to an audio-book version of the thriller Gone Girl. Oh it's good. So so good. Keith has been tinkering away on his algorithms in the quiet across the room while I (headphones on) reach into tricky corners and shout suddenly 'No! No you didn't!'We are both happy. Painting and tinkering away, surrounded by low-level squalor, beset by only mild illness, warm and safe.
Goodnight blog universe.