Well, the first day of the week lies behind me and a good one it was too. I have a very satisfied feeling and can look forward to the evening with a peaceful mind. I feel like I accomplished something and was useful and engaged and it's done wonders for my self esteem.
I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up and made coffee and sat behind the computer until the early morning. Of course, then I got tired and after I took my medicines, I laid down on the sofa under the red fleece blanket and went to sleep. I didn't wake up until 11 am when my personal helper rang the intercom. I was so discombobulated. I had to get into action right away, when what I needed was a cup of coffee and a cigarette.
I tried to speak coherently and pass for a functioning human being, but I didn't become one until after I had taken a shower and got dressed with a lot of difficulty and made a pot of coffee and had a cup. Then I felt like a human being who could participate in a grown up conversation. It was a great relief when I felt my mind start working normally. After that I started making sense.
We dressed for the cold and took Tyke for a walk. It was very invigorating outside and the cold felt great because we were dressed warm enough. Tyke was a bundle of joy. He piddled on every twig and sniffed everywhere he had not been for a while. He pulled me along the sidewalk at high speed and then would stop in his tracks to investigate something minutely. It was stop and go and nothing in between. He was a happy puppy beside himself who forgets the world around him.
I made a deal with my personal helper that I would not feel bad about how I spend the weekends and just make the best of them and not sit and mope about them, but survive them as well as I could without guilt feelings. If I feel myself perk up on Sunday afternoon, then that's all the better and I can take advantage of that and do whatever I have not gotten around to the rest of the weekend. I'm not to moan and complain about the weekends anymore as long as I find a way to survive them. And I do. In my own convoluted way.
Just as she left, my domestic help showed up and we started off with a cigarette and a talk. Then I had to clean up all the Trivial Pursuit cards that Tyke had pulled out of the box that was sitting on the bookcase in my bedroom. There were hundreds of those cards and they were spread all over the place. He had gotten to them by climbing on the rattan chair. The smartest thing to do, of course, was to move the chair. For some reason, this very obvious thing had not dawned on me before. Now he can't get to the higher shelves of the bookcase anymore.
Then I did the dishes, which I should have done on Sunday, but never got around to, and I cleaned every one of them down to the last teaspoon. Even Tyke has clean bowls. I don't like doing the dishes that much. I find it a frustrating job because the water slowly drains from the sink. It is because of a faulty plug and I have to keep refilling the sink and it's hard to get the water temperature right. I need a different faucet and a different plug. Or a dish pan to do the dishes in.
I turned down the thermostat and opened all the windows to air out the apartment, which is necessary when you smoke. It didn't help much because it didn't get colder than 20.5C in here. The kitchen window was stuck and I couldn't get it open. It would have made a difference. There was no wind, so no draft to speak of, and the little windows at the top of the living room windows don't let in much air. That's really noticeable in the summertime when you want the heat to escape.
I also had not gotten around to hanging up the laundry and got that done. I filled the rack and am slowly getting the next load ready. I will look in my closet and find clothes to wash. Whatever smells like smoke will go in the laundry.
The domestic help stayed for awhile after she was done with her work. We talk and bond and get to know each other. She does always try to please me and makes the extra effort and the better we get to know each other, the harder she tries. But I also try to make it as easy on her as possible and try to do things before she gets here.
After she left, I moved the very big scratching pole out of the spare bedroom into the living room and put it in the corner where Tyke has his toys. He investigated it for a while and then began to bark at it and coming to me looking very indignant. He didn't want that thing there. I told him it was for Gandhi, but he went over to her and shoved her off the sofa. She was very clearly not interested in the scratching pole and didn't even look at it. Tyke barked at it some more, so I picked it up and put it back in the spare bedroom and then peace returned. That was one failed experiment. It looked very ugly there anyway.
Tyke and I went for another walk and now we're waiting for the delivery boy from the pharmacy. I never know at what time he'll be here, but I have to be home after 6 pm.
Well, the story has gotten long enough. I'm quitting now. All that enthusiasm...