Monday, 29 June 2009

What I like, when I like...

Today... Today is a good day. I can't promise I'll write every day,
every week or even every fortnight, but one thing I promise to do is
write when I feel the need to. Which kind of sums up my blog for today.

Here I am, sitting in my bedroom on a warm summer's evening, listening
to the birds (cheesy, I know, but I really am), drinking a very good
coffee, and realising exactly what I've been missing.

For the last few weeks, I've managed to finish work when I feel I need
to (some days on time, others a bit later), drive home, and plan my
time how I choose. Just let it happen.

Ok, I hear you cry, this girl's a fruitloop - thats normality - but
bear with me. Up until now, this has been a completely alien concept
to me.

Gone are the days of worrying what time anyone else would be home,
whether they would tell me if they were going to be late, what they
would or wouldn't like for tea. Whether there were any meetings coming
up, so would I need to do the impossibly-late-night washing/drying/
perfect ironing run, so that the outside world would see me as the
perfect, all-encompassing, thoughtful and dutiful partner. And, most
notably perhaps, who were they with and how could I ask without
causing a row when he came home late looking tired, sheepish, distant
and very very guilty.

Here are the days where I come home when I please, spend an hour
working out on my iq-sizzling computer console (if waving your arms
and legs in the air whilst trying to wheeze your way to the end of the
programme, hoping the neighbours aren't rolling around in side-
splitting laughter at my antics can be called 'working out'), then
check if there's anything on tv I might actually want to watch. If
not, I might read - my favourite pastime, guaranteed to transport me
into whichever world I'm immersing my literary self in at the time. Or
listen to my favourite podcasts - by whomever I choose, on whichever
topic I fancy at the time.

Heck, if I want to do handstands until I'm blue in the face, whilst
singing the national anthem, wearing purple fuzzy socks (with toes) -
y'know what? I can. Get my drift?

Yeah, this is freedom and it's goooood...

I like to watch tv programmes that interest me - that I can learn
things from (no, I don't have a degree and can socially function, I
might add). I don't like to watch programmes that are all about who's-
snogging-who, which skirt is the shortest, which-drug-to-take and how-
many-people-can-I-sleep-with teen 'dramas'; I start to fall asleep
when I watch tv programmes involving enforced personality-enhancing
and socially dysfunctional individuals stuck together in a 'house'
full of cameras for two months, with nothing but the smell of each
others week-old socks and who can flick their bogeys the furthest to
keep them (and us) 'entertained'. And I swear that I have never in my
life felt the burning, raging desire to know more about how airports
function, or how to survive in the the tundra wastes on a blade of
grass and drinking my own wee every morning. Thank you very much. Not
that I have any problem with people who do, it's just not my cup of tea.

No, I like to be able to think when I'm watching tv. To ponder the
programme after the credits have rolled, and if I feel the luxury,
maybe even think about it later, when I'm snuggled up in my big warm
bed (the wonders of electric blankets - I don't need a bed-warming
companion!), feeding the cat treats and hoping he doesn't actually use
the litter tray in this room, and maybe even munching my way through
the national chocolate mountain.

If, as still does, and I'm sure still will happen for a while - I have
a 'singleton-wobble' - if the phone goes, or a text message from him
comes through; if I'm really tired, my bones ache and just for a mo I
wish that I was still doing the perfect ironing run (just for a mo,
though, at least until I can reach the ice cream or chocolate), I can,
if I want, blub. Just because I feel like it.

Then when that's done, I've blown my nose, washed my face, put on a
tiny bit of assistance in the makeup department so that I don't scare
any people or animals in the near vicinity, and practised my best
smile in the mirror, I can quietly and privately forgive myself for
being human, because I reckon that's what it's all about.

And I'm quietly but passionately determined to see thus thing through,
because I know that in the end it will be the best, most precious gift
I can give myself.


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