Well hello and good morning everyone.
Exciting news. I’ve just spilt some porridge on my pyjamas which means that today I had the luxury of eating my breakfast in bed.
The weather is warming up here and I think today is going to be good.
The rubbish truck is emptying my bin now and any second the old man from number 4 will come running out and bring his bin in. It’s not a competition but he wins every time.
People are strange aren’t they?
(Actually that was a rhetorical question.)
It’s the little things we do that define us.
He is the self appointed Captain of the street. He knows when people are away. He knows where and he knows for how long. Actually he’s a bit weird I reckon but I tell the boys to wave at him when they see him because weird people can also be kind and helpful.
We are creatures of habit aren’t we?
We make routines and they become us.
We are safe in them because we are in control.
Then we change our routines and feel something different and that’s good too.
We keep going.
I’m not sure at what stage following a routine means that you’re stuck in a rut. Maybe it’s when you can live your life on auto pilot. Or when you can’t distinguish one day from the next.
I’m not there yet.
But maybe that’s what it’s like when you’re older and lonely.
Maybe bringing in the bin on a Thursday morning is the day that’s different in the week. But then all Thursdays are the same.
This is a fairly pointless post but maybe it’s a reminder to me to go out past my bedtime sometimes on a Saturday night and try new things.
Maybe I could get up early and watch the sunrise.
Maybe make pancakes for breakfast.
Hold the cuddles a little longer.
Wear the red earrings and some lipstick.
Keep it real.
Add some spontaneity to my day.
Wave to the old man and make time for a chat with him too as we bring the bins in.
(And happy birthday again for yesterday M. xx)