I am really enjoying these colours at the moment, they're really hitting the spot. What do you think?
I am calling this my Bonkers Blanket of Madness - which I think is appropriate, although it's just a draft name and I may think of something more subtle. It's coming on well at the moment. I have crocheted 50 x 4 round squares; 37 x 2 round squares; 1 x 6 round; 1 x 10 round and 2 x 12 round. And I am l-o-v-i-n-g it. I don't mind a single second. I have even developed a bit of an affinity to the Alibi channel (especially Murder She Wrote and Diagnosis Murder!)
I had a good day yesterday. The knot in my chest seemed to forget to be there, and I just had a warm, fuzzy, lightheaded feeling. Today I am not feeling so positive, but I did loads yesterday, so I guess that is to be expected. I think I have overdone things.
One good thing is that I had an email from work. They will have to have a meeting and make a decision re my contract (which I would be surprised if they renew, to be honest.) Anyway, the tone of the email was friendly, they wished me well, which was a huge relief. HUGE. I hadn't realised how anxious I was about telling them I was sick. I don't really care what happens now, I would prefer to leave it to chance and not worry about it. C'est la vie.
Lovely Dominic is starting to get very frustrated with my illness and I completely understand why. He goes back to work on Monday and is in a mad panic trying to get everything sorted. However, to him this means refelting the shed roof, finishing the wallpapering in the annexe, painting the playroom and sorting out the house - in one and a half days. In order to get this done he wants me to: sort out all the clothes, put everything away for everyone, do the ironing; sort out and box up most of the office, so that he can move the cupboards into the playroom; move all the Ebay stuff into the spare bedroom that I will have cleared; take the stuff to the charity shop; sort out Charlie's toys; sort out the things Jonathan has put out to go to the car boot sale.
I *know* it's pathetic, but I literally have 20 minutes max of energy and, even in that time, I can't keep a thought in my head for more than a couple of seconds, so I find myself wandering from room to room forgetting what I am doing. So everything takes so much longer. I *really* want to tell him that his expectations are too high, and that is part of the general problem. He expects too much of us both; we're always striving for some ridiculous ideal, and I am sure that is part of the reason I have become sick. He says that he can't go back to work with the house in the state it's currently in. I despair.
I don't know how to deal with this, to be honest. I guess I should be getting on right now. My guilty voices are on full pelt. On the other hand, I recognise that he expects too much. If I rush around to meet that expectation, will things ever change? I think not.
I completely understand his frustration with me, I feel the same. I wouldn't leave the house yesterday to go to the Post Office and he got quite cross. He's not mean to me, he's frustrated with the illness. But I just couldn't do it. Right now, he's taken Jonny to football and is visiting his Mum. I said I didn't want to go because I couldn't face being there when he told her about my illness. I'm a chicken, aren't I? He left without saying too much.
I'd better get on and get something done. Thanks for listening. I hope you are getting on well too, and your day is a positive one xx