A frayed thread

Progress on my dungarees painting is slow because the sun has been shining which means no loitering inside. So far my favourite part is the frayed threads on the top of the bib:

It sums up how I've been this week. Upset at the start, then feeling better, then unsettled and then upset again.

The credit for the above cartoon is dinosaur on Twitter:

I went on the Trail yesterday at 8.30 a.m., before the tourists arrived, and I had to stop for a rest on the up journey and on the down one too. I spent the rest of the day recovering. Admittedly the day had started rather early - at 4.30 a.m. - when we heard that scratching in the bedroom ceiling again. There is a creature that wants to live between the plasterboard and the attic flooring and Dave's attempts to catch it have so far failed. 

We have all kinds of measures already in place (both humane and otherwise* - *cue complaints from the family member who declines to be named). All have proved ineffective, but this morning Dave told me that humane pest deterrers online recommend cayenne pepper, so that's one new thing to try. I'll keep you posted.

I saw a clothes advert online this morning and thought - Hmm, I could do with some new pants, and wondered if M&S had got their act together in that department since I ditched them for Victoria Secret eleven years ago and Zoë suggested I become a transatlantic knicker mule.  

My searches of M&S turned up nothing and then I saw a line that said 'Pink and Black Female Empowerment High Legs 5 pack.' 

Would female empowerment pants sort out the pants problem AND the low morale?

I don't think they're the answer.

Apart from anything else, I worry about my 'children', even though a friend who also worries said on Thursday 'When has it ever done any good?'

This morning, after a week of emails, a friend down-under sent me a two line email:

Like Cece, 'I love you Sue.'

Here are my Autumn crocuses to wish you a happy Easter xxx

I think she was quoting from Days Are Where We Live:

Cece sitting on the downstairs loo down the corridor shouting out, a propos of nothing: "I love you, Sue!"

In my Thursday conversation with my friend I'd said that if children feel loved and safe it would make them resilient for their uncertain futures ahead.

Do you think that's true?

I felt loved and safe, and I feel loved and safe, and I'm still vaguely sane, even if frayed.

Sending love to all of you with all my best wishes for good times ahead. 

And I also hope that you're not fraying more than me.