No gloves
I'm in a hot hot bath, swearing and red. Sweating, not swearing. It could be so hot that I'm in here muttering, "fuck fuck aow Jesus shitting Christ fuck!" but it's not. I've got styes in both eyes. That's what not drinking does. Makes everyone say, you're run down, but I was eating healthily, and not drinking booze. I think it's cos I was lonely and depressed. Loneliness is worse for you than smoking, apparently. It's a strange thing then that the company gained from drinking could help my health? If managed correctly. (I do realise that one can socialise without drinking alcohol, but I've found that I still feel sad and lonely afterwards, as if I wasn't really there. It's a shame, that...) I've drank booze the last 3 days. Perhaps I'll drink for 2 or 3 days every 3 weeks. Who knows? I know that I need to help myself to fix my own loneliness. It's not like I don't have any friends... I got up early all week, and I exercised more. I had voluntary work, too. At the wonderful Fighting Words. Very little paid work. But I need to see the advantage of time. Plan things...
I only got up this morning because the Tumble-Dryer-Fixing-Man knocked the door. He envied my lie-in. I envied his earning £65 for 5 minutes work. Sure, we're both lucky.
I also had a day and a half's work at the children's festival. I walked into town for it, on the Tuesday. It was windy and cold, but dry. I'd lost all my gloves, except for a couple of fingerless pairs, and I'd forgotten even them. I thought, it's fine, I'll buy some on the way in. I dropped the middle child off at his rather posh school, on the way. I didn't have my full children's festival outfit on, but I was wearing an orange tutu. He's quite stoic about it all. I don't think he's that embarrassed. He did cross the road quickly, though.
I went to at least 10 shops. I tried small shops and big shops, charity shops and pound shops. There are NO gloves. It's spring, love, the shop assistants would say, laughing at my shivering. My poor fingers numb and red. Surrounded by vest tops and bikinis. Then I saw some in B&M! They're exfoliating gloves, love. Scratchy! (Should've bought them anyway.) There were gloves in the Spar! Plastic workperson's gloves. Sweaty! (Should've bought them anyway.) No gloves for me. I survived (I got the bus home, later. First time in AGES. I'm delighted to report that I got the front seat of the top deck, and that I still find that exciting.)
At home, I searched again for gloves. I have a drawer full of left gloves. Is there a left handed person out there, with a drawer full of right gloves? Can we get together?
A couple of days later, while searching for something else, I was surprised to find an excellent pair of gloves. In the glove box of my car! Why didn't I look there on the first place?! So my hands are once again protected, hooray!
March 2019