Finding my balance

Life is good. The end of last week was filled with socialising, followed by some time at home, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

Cheltenham was brilliant, from the moment we got on the coach at 7.30 am. I wore the dress, jacket and boots in the end, but I needn’t have worried as much as I did, as people were wearing all different types of outfits.

I somehow felt fine the following day, which was fortunate as I was meeting my friend Carol for lunch and we hadn’t seen each other since 2019! We chatted for two hours solid before she had to go on the school run and the husband and I had to make our way over to Essex. I was having an early birthday celebration with my family, and what was supposed to be dinner and cabaret turned into dancing and trying to steal the mic off of the live singer at every opportunity. I hope I didn’t make too much of a tit of myself as I am going back there tomorrow night with my friends.

After all the celebrations, the husband conveniently contracted a particularly nasty strain of man flu, we had a painter coming on Monday, so it was left to me to sort the house out, including the tiresome job of emptying the living room of everything but the big furniture. I was shattered! I had a well-deserved soak in the bath and an early night.

I managed to get myself up and showered before the painter arrived. I had convinced myself that I would be fine locking myself away in the sanctuary whilst he worked away, but I began to feel self-conscious. I had a panic that, because he was working between my room and the bathroom, I was going to disturb him at a pivotal painting point and knock him off his ladder when I needed the loo.

As soon as the opportunity arose, I went downstairs with armfuls of things so I didn’t have to get in his way, almost tripping down the stairs as I went because I was trying so hard not to touch any paint. I made it to the living room in one piece thankfully.

That evening, husband and I settled down that evening catching up on some episodes of Gogglebox when he got a message from the painter. He had injured his arm and was currently in A&E, he wouldn’t be coming tomorrow but he would keep us posted. Oh, dear. The following morning, he messaged to say he would be out of action for 8 weeks, I did briefly wonder, if he had just come to our house and thought, sod that and decided to go and break his arm just to get out of it.