Day 44: Reasons Not To Be An Idiot

I totally stole this idea – to start my blog post with a lyric/video – from the glorious Starchild Luke, but SHUT IT YOU – we’re tight, so I know he won’t mind.

So, the last few days have been interesting. I’ve had to wrestle with estate agents, disappointments at work, a whole messy tangled heap of issues with friends and oh-so-much-more. As a result, there have been a few too many instances of me wanting to wham the nearest person’s head in a blender, followed swiftly by self-pitying urges to curl up on the kitchen floor with a bowl of butter (in the way Robyn Wilder so accurately describes. I ❤ this new blog.)
Basically, I apparently do not handle stress well.

This song (among other things), however, has made me re-evaluate a bit. Particularly “Get up, and get down, and get outside.” Basically, shut up, get on with it, and then you won’t be sitting at home fretting about why you haven’t done all that stuff you meant to do. Instead, you’ll be doing it. Which leaves time for the fun (that covers the ‘get down’ part, I imagine.)

One of my favourite quotations at the moment is Joseph Conrad’s:

Facing it, always facing it, that’s the way to get through. Face it.

I thought this just applied to courage, but I’ve found recently it applies to pretty much every day. I’m trying hard to face up to each day and sort of clumsily rugby-tackle it into some sort of order. It’s the only way I go to bed feeling I’ve achieved anything.

It helps to look for the silver lining, too. Today, I was told I couldn’t move out on Thursday as I’d been planning to for weeks. Oh no, my new landlord apparently needs to do something reallyreallyreally important to my new house like repaint the skirting boards, get it de-haunted, or wander around it aimlessly for a few more days wondering how on earth she’s managed to let such a mish-mash of – and I use this term loosely – ‘rooms’ to two non-certifiable people (answer: one part rash decision-making to two parts the-thought-of-living-next-door-to-a-pub-and-opposite-a-beauty-salon.) Anyway, I’m stuck with the rents (and younger brother) for a couple more weeks.

But I’ve decided to note down a few of the reasons this is not such a bad thing in order to squish the disappointment/letting-agent-rage out of me:

Reasons I’ll Miss Living Here

1. Mama’s cooking. Tonight I got home to minted lamb AND a new recipe which consists of lots of gooey chocolate ganache and maltesers. Need I say more?

2. My brother who, last night, decided he wanted the drumstick lolly I’d chosen. When I asked him to give it back, he licked it. I still ate it. Then he brought me breakfast in bed this morning by way of an apology for licking the lolly. That doesn’t sound like it should be a reason to stay but… it’s a brother/sister thing. We’ve been similar for twenty years. Worrying, huh?

3. My Dad every other day going “Lauralauralaura listen to this song I found!” His music collection covers an entire wall – he has literally thousands of CDs. Sometimes the songs he shows me are godawful, but that’s not the point: I love his passion, and his desire to share it. Plus, most of the songs he shows me are now firm favourites on my playlists, just because.

4. Watching TV with Mama. Example: Come Dine With Me
Me: “Mama, what’s that made of?”
Mama: “Lentils and salmonella. No wait… I mean lentils and semolina.”

5. My Dad laughing disproportionately loudly at things on TV. It ends up making me laugh even when I don’t want to.

6. My brother – who is a DJ despite being just 20 – running in every so often and going “Lauralauralaura, listen to this mix I just made!” I wonder where he gets it from.

7. My cat, Elphaba, stretching out on her favourite spot (the top of the sofa), but losing balance and falling off.

8. The smell of Mama’s baking filling the house every Saturday afternoon. There’s literally nothing like it.

9. My dog Phoebe going mental every time someone sings ‘Happy Birthday’. She always expects a present.

10. Elphaba punching people for no reason whatsoever. Even when she punches me in the face. Even when it hurts, but I have to pretend it doesn’t, cos she’s a fucking cat.


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