My temporary contract doesn’t officially finish until the end of the month – Tuesday – but I have two days holiday owing, so I’m free at last! Free to write all day (apart from shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry, tidying up…)
It’s going to be great, at least until the end of the month when my pay check doesn’t arrive. But lucky me, I have a husband with a good job, and the house is paid for.
Over the weekend, I produced a subject index for my blog about La Palma, and submitted a story. This morning I’m blogging, sanding down doors ready for varnish, and submitting more stories. Plus some housework, inevitably.
In other news, my husband worked out a way to get the Berlingo repaired for our friends in Franceses. This is a long story, but it started when a rock fell onto the road and leaped at their radiator yelling, “Banzai!” Since this was absolutely not their fault, they should get compensation to pay for the repairs eventually. Meanwhile, there’s a cash-flow problem, and we were begining to think that the Berlingo would have to stand out in the rain for perhaps four years, getting slowly rusty.
As I say, my husband thought up a workaround. And last night I dreamt of a dog-sized Berlingo jumping around his lap, being petted. “Good van. Good van.”
Obviously I haven’t been getting any saner lately, which isn’t going to surprise anybody.
I should do that – the subject index – for Secret Tenerife, but there’s nearly 2,500 posts now.
Yeah, the unemployment thing, I suspect along with the retirement thing, is just a theory. All that really happens is that you still find yourself inexplicably with no time and end up wondering how you ever found the time to work.
I mean, I have no kids, no husband, I avoid shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry and tidying up as much as possible and, yet I still never seem to progress. Nor does my sanity! 🙂
But you’ve been ill, and that’s always time consuming.
And who needs sanity, anyway? I’ve always managed without. Or maybe I’m confusing sanity with conformity, as people so often do.
Yes, I do have to live by some seriously frustrating limitations because of my health, that’s true.
You’re so right about people confusing sanity and conformity. Not conforming, I’m quite certain, is diagnosed as a mental illness in the UK now.