The week did not start well.
Yesterday was a nondescript type of day, marked by the dragging of old sofas, beds and assorted junk to the driveway, whence they would go this morning to the path, to be collected by the Household Goods Refuse people. So far so good, very nice to be able to get in to the shed again.
This morning, however, started a different story. I opened one eye, saw some sun peeping through the curtains, and smiled to myself in the lovely expectation of a lazy Sunday morning. A little voice in the back of my head started grumbling. “Of course, it’s not really Sunday, because, really, Sunday was yesterday, yesterday was a lazy morning, but of course, today is MONDAY!! MONDAY ALERT! MONDAY ALERT!” , screamed the now screechy voice in my head. I slowly jumped out of bed and woke the Little One. The Big Sister was up, grinning at my Monday face. Teenagers. So it was Monday, and we were late. The Big Sister left for the bus. Made lunch, rushed the Little One, screamed at Mr. Seldom and the Very Big Sister that I was off, bundled Little One in the car, and noticed that The Household Refuse People were at the end of the road. Looked around, everybody’s stuff was on the path, started wondering whether I had time to bring Little One to school and come back to rouse Mr. Seldom, or whether I should risk being even later and go back in. Decided on school first, and reversed my car right into Mr. Seldom’s car.
The day has since progressed to a dull but insistent headache, I stayed at home to do some work, seen as I’m supposed to hand in 30 pages on Friday. The headache has just got worse.
03 March 2006
I woke up this morning to Christmassy scenery of white and frost, and to the news on the radio that some villages in Donegal were still snow-bound, or at least their schools were closed. So I dreamed of a house in Donegal, snow-bound if possible, a turf fire (with the possibility of turning on the central heating) and a pile of good books. My vision included a very comfortable armchair, a sleeping cat (well, I have that anyway, sitting in the only vaguely comfortable armchair in the house), and no sign of a pile of ironing or of a kitchen to be cleaned. At that stage, my vision became a bit too real and I drove to college, still vaguely dreamy.