The thing about standing still is the past starts catching up with you.
We’d slept with the window open and the fresh air made me feel like it would be a good day. I remembered to feel thankful that the babies had stayed in another day and that we are heading for the magical 28 week mark. I’d woken up from a series of dreams where I had to justify my actions to people who I felt I owed an explanation to. Two are too personal to mention. One was more metaphorical. I found myself explaining to the Controller of BBC4 (a stand in for the sort of chap you can’t bullshit) why I should be allowed to enrol in his arts course. Was I someone who considered themselves to have a wide range of friends and interests? Was I someone with something to say? In my dream I thought he was really asking if I was interesting enough to contribute something of worth to the world. I bollocked on but could tell he didn’t buy it. When I woke up I felt a sense of opportunity. Like I had to do something more important with my life or at least do something meaningful for me. Maybe it’s just the knowledge that this is the last time I will have for myself for a very long time.
So I built some flatpack, did the washing up and went back to sleep, ate a Magnum in the garden and had a good old bitch about work with my colleague who came round to visit. Then spent an hour fishing a lost diamond earring out from under the floorboards (had I taken the trouble to look for it earlier in the day when I noticed it was missing I would have discovered it in my bottomless cleavage before it dropped out and could have saved myself the time bending coat hangers). I have just finished cooking dinner in advance like a 1950s housewife and resumed sitting in my deckchair.
A day well spent then. Is the world a better place yet?