Monday, 2 April 2012

Head(ing) to Spaghetti Junction:

I find it very difficult to state what it is I am defined by these days. I look around and loved ones seem to have it sorted, granted not all of them are overly happy in a portion of their life triangle (work, home, life) but they are reliably them no matter what time of day. The Art man can be found more often than not blogging/drawing/listening to bizarre music, my Mum preparing work for her role as a teacher/reading about the latest techie piece or edgy fashion; my Dad is systematic in his actions rather than specific action. When I was living at home still I liked the sound of my Dad at work, albeit the muffled radio from the garage whilst he was tinkering, the Bob Dylan music on a Saturday morning with ad hoc ‘sirtos’ dance moves or even now the ‘wipe down’ of the kitchen work surfaces makes me feel everything is well in the world.

The latter practice is something I adopt when feeling stressed. Needless to say, I’m not sorted- far from it. I have an idea and whoosh it’s the next best thing and I’m flying with the hope that this new ‘fad’ will change my life and it’s the thing I’ve been searching for all my life. Just this weekend whilst The Art Man was on one of his many constitutionals ( Note to reader, both the art man and I are Welsh and as such, wherever we are we have to walk to the highest point to survey and get our bearings. In Cheshire this is more of a challenge but ambitious molehills often suffice) and I decided to minimalize (again) my possessions. I say mine because I don’t have either the strength or gin supply to contemplate the Art man’s paraphernalia. So with the ambition to create organised calm I attempted to don Dad’s organiser superpowers. The result was far from perfect and I ended up lying on a milieu of clothes not unlike Alice after she’s tumbled down the rabbit hole unto a pile of debris. To add insult to injury our adoptive cat, Pickle, sort to either comfort/patronise me by further by curling up on top of the mountain of clothes and falling asleep facing away from me.
Heaven for me would be to have wall to wall kitchen cupboards with their own little boxes (individually labelled of course) with everything in its place. But maybe I should look at individually labelling me first to understand why, to use our feline lodger’s name; I get into such a pickle myself….answers on a postcard and all that. 

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