My Life on a Plate

Tell Me Why I Don't Like Sundays

Not feeling too great today for some reason - well probably for a lot of reasons. I've never liked Sundays, probably a leftover from the days when everywhere was closed and knowing Monday was around the corner. Doesn't really matter any more as Monday is much like any other day now, but that feeling still lingers.

Spent a while late last night investigating on a genealogy site. A mistake I think. Kept waking up in the night thinking about all these deceased people and how all that's left of them are records and bits of paper. Yes, I have a very dark side, I believe a lot of writers do. There's a fine line between humour and depression as demonstrated by many famous creative people. Not that I claim to be famous of course. I just struggle sometimes to see the purpose in life, despite the fact there are many things and people I love. Anyway, enough of that.

So what of today? At the moment there's some heavy music coming from my son's room upstairs and the hiss of the steam right behind me as hubby does the ironing. Okay ladies, I hear you gasp with envy. 'I wish my husband would help around the house!' The grass is always greener. Sure, he's more domesticated than me. Seems to enjoy hoovering, washing pots and ironing but to be perfectly honest I'd rather he be playing golf or go out to the pub! It's that space thing again. We have a very long through lounge but he always has to iron about four yards away from me. I'm claustraphobic by nature and can't abide having my space invaded but I'm afraid he just doesn't understand. I'm feeling tense and edgy even writing this blog with his shadow looming over me. Better stop and seek out some space elsewhere. Must find reasons to be cheerful...one, two. three.