On one hand,I’m waking up each morning this week with a countdown in my head. Twelve, eleven, ten days until Mr Sunshine breaks up for the summer holidays. I hate wishing my life away like this, but I can’t seem to stop – it’s just too damn exciting.
On the other hand: just as I’m wishing my life away with one hand, the other is desperately trying to freeze it. I want to savour this week, I wish I’d made more of last week, I’m still trying to keep fresh all the wonderful big and little events that have made the last few months so jaw-droppingly special.
On one hand, I’m really happy with Alfie’s reaction to our new garden. I’m not exaggerating when I say our daft little mutt tries to cuddle the grass (the first lawn he’s known), he lolls around on his back, flips over and spreads his legs as wide as he can and buries his nose deep in the mown green shoots.
On the other hand: Alfie’s love of the new lawn has resulted in this:
On one hand I've recently had the nicest confirmation that I’m doing ok at something I love, and I’ve realised that it’s only now as I approach the big five O I have the experience necessary to make a childish dream a distant possibility.
On the other hand: this morning I noticed that that very experience necessary to make dreams come true resulted in wrinkles on my nose, on my nose. I don’t mind the nose wrinkles so much, what I do mind was finding out Jack, a dear friend, has just bought a vintage car, and it’s younger than me.
On one hand, just as I think I’m about to settle down to a life of middle-aged tedium a new friend asks if I could help source her a sperm donor.
On the other hand: Any offers?