Thursday, January 18, 2024

Losing it

Last year I was given a five year diary/journal with a difference. On each day you are asked a question. Yesterday’s was ‘Do you prefer the sea or the mountains and why?’ The day before, I was asked ‘What do you want more than anything else?’ 

Today the question is ‘What is special about today?’ And my answer is:

‘There is nothing in my diary - which means I can paint. Also I can stay in bed and read as long as I like.’ 

I have had some good things in my diary lately - such as trying out a class of QiGong yesterday, run by a friend, and having breakfast with Liz at Hassop Station last week. There have also been quite a few errands and appointments and duties, not hardships, but not fun either. 

Dave’s brain is wired differently from mine. I relish the idea of an ‘empty’ day when I don’t have to schedule, and I can please myself. He likes to have the day buttoned up, parcelled out, ordered. Certainly he likes it when no one comes and when he can please himself, but he likes to have a plan. And he wants to know what my plan is - phrased as the shape of the day - and at 6.30 in the morning when I have stumbled downstairs for my first mug of Yorkshire Tea, I am in no fit state to be thinking of plans or shapes even if I wanted to.

I know this is a rambling post but there we are. I have an empty day, and possibly an empty mind as well. All that is on my mind right now is that the turquoise in the painting I am working on is far too intense. 

Dave has just come in the bedroom and said I left the (sliding) back door open on the car last night. On Monday he left his wallet in full view in the car when he parked in a hospital car park. On Tuesday I left the hot tap running by mistake. Last week I left the kitchen light on all night, two nights in a row, although I was sure I had switched it off.

We are both losing it.

After two weeks of scattered, ill ordered and desultory hunting for it, accompanied by the wailing and gnashing of teeth, Dave has now completed rigorous crime scene searches of two of our sheds to find the bazooka he uses for splitting logs. The first shed - where he does all his woodwork - is so full and cluttered, it took two days to search. I wish he would let me show you what the inside of this shed looks like. 

What I can show you is the new bazooka he just bought from Chesterfield while I have been cosy in bed.

A bazooka. 
Not an Oscar.


Anonymous said...

Good morning Sue, I like your 'rambling' post. You manage not to mention the weather and how freezing it is 🥶. I was walking in Padley Gorge yesterday, so beautiful. Another good thing about the cold - it meant PG wasn't too peoplely! Good luck finding the right turquoise. Sally x

Sue Hepworth said...

Hello Sally. Thank you for your comment.
Yes it’s cold but it’s SUNNY!
And as I said to Het yesterday “I am cheerful. Give a girl sunshine and she’s anybody’s”

A frosty Padley Gorge with few people sounds lovely.

Anonymous said...

No idea before this post what on earth a bazooka was. And I presumed from the photo hat Dave had won an award, and of course after a fashion he had You should blame the weather for your runof overlooking things. Here in Eastern Coast Australia we have learned ones blaming high humidity for various emotional conditions among other things

Sue Hepworth said...

That's vey funny, Ana, but it won't wash. The forgetting will continue into the spring....

Anonymous said...

I feel like dashing out to buy a bazooka - just to say I’ve got one!

And of course, Dave now has two. He’s more than worth it.

As for empty days - aren’t we lucky to have such full lives that we welcome them.

I’m sat here looking at a gloriously empty day ahead, that I may fill in any number of ways.

Or not.

Thea, xx

Sue Hepworth said...

Yes we are lucky, Thea.

And I love your ‘or not.’