There are two families across the road with young children, daughters, of similar ages. The last two weekends have been full of play and laughter, loud happy voices. Sounds that should bring heart gladness and yet, are actually annoying. Perhaps just sound on Sunday morning gets me that way.
So there’s that.
Then there’s the cigarette smoke I go to sleep with. Late, late at night it’s like someone is sitting on the end of my bed smoking one after another. Our houses are all joined, row houses, but still… I can only guess that one of the kids next door is on their balcony, or their roof deck. Is the smell coming down the chimney?
I have times I’m so blissed out none of this worries me. I wouldn’t even notice it. When I’m raw and fragile the laughter pin pricks my skin, the nicotine clogs my airways. What to do about external things that become a part of your story unbidden?
We had lunch at the pub today. Fake lunch – three bites do not a meal make, delicious though they be. Two generations to celebrate the young one’s birthday. And rooms full of about to go to the football-ers. Sweaty, sardine standing room only, lose your voice bar. Staff bringing food slowly, breaking glasses, deer in the headlight eyes… The pub wasn’t coping – it’s seams burst.
And then they went off to see their team win. I watched from the couch.
A good end to a crazy week of work and/or a distracting beginning to the ‘procedure week’ – the looming of it hanging heavier the closer it gets. Countdown to over though!