So much could have been written about this week. So much. Of course none of it would have been useful, insightful, or interesting. It would have been cathartic though.
Making it to Friday seems like an achievement – especially given the accident I was nearly involved in on my way home. While cycling through town en-route to the supermarket (because who doesn’t go home via the supermarket on a Friday evening), I was slowly passing a line of queueing traffic, when a girl crossed the road directly in front of me. I say girl – more young woman. She emerged from a gap between a goods vehicle, and a car – and walked out directly in front of me – looking at her phone. I swerved into the path of oncoming traffic to avoid her – the first thing she knew about it was when she kicked my back wheel.
By the time I arrived at the supermarket I was shaking – adrenaline does funny things to you. I’m still not entirely sure how neither of us ended up on the floor.
So yes – making it to Friday this week has been an achievement.
Of course I got home, and listened to a list of instructions – orders if you will – things I will be doing this weekend that I had no idea about until I walked in the door. I stood in the kitchen, unloading shopping from my backpack while the orders were fired at me, one after another. I heard something about going to the rubbish tip again, and again, and again – and the charity shop in town again, and again, and again. Later in the evening our eldest started adding to the list – putting pictures up – hanging things – drilling holes – fixing things.
I’m not going to have a weekend.
My other half and the children are on half-term next week. While they all drive each other nuts around the house, I’ll carry on with attempting to cycle to work without hitting anybody. I do have Wednesday booked off. I wonder what orders I’ll face on Tuesday night ?