Bathing in scrambled egg

Day 237

I have discovered that the best way for me to get past my present difficulties is to work hard at something physical - it stops the anxiety whilst still giving me odd chances to think things through(when I'm not consumed with thoughts about how bloody exhausted I am, that is), so I am still pruning like mad and have discovered another tree that was completely hidden by laurel.

Since Steve was last here two weeks ago, I have also lifted, levelled and relaid some twenty-six paving stones on the patio. Ta-dah! Not bad for someone with CFS. I am pleased to say that the only body I found beneath it belonged to a very big, fat, gorgeous, gnarly toad, with a spotty tummy, and rather a nice grin when I picked him up to relocate him.

Have also half knitted a jumper, sort of string-vest style. You all know I can't knit so when I tell you that I am attempting this without a pattern (gasp, is she mad?), you will understand why it took me four attempts before I had cast on the right number of stitches. This is another one I am making by unravelling an old jumper that I didn't particularly like - hope it fits better than the last one.

Now make sure you're sitting down for this bit, but I have also started decorating the bathroom and fitted a new loo seat. We had a whole pot of unused yellow paint - Couscous by Dulux - and I had earmarked that for the bathroom but when I tried it out, it was too strong for such a small space.Had half a pot of white left over from my student days so I mixed them both into a pleasant primrosey colour. Not too bad, I thought, so I gave everything a quick coat, but knew I'd need to see it in full daylight, electric light etc., before I made up my mind.

So I sat in the bath this morning and checked it out. Quite nice, quite fresh, maybe still a little strong. Then I noticed I was getting VERY hungry. That's when I realised it was now exactly the colour of scrambled egg and it was having a subliminal effect on me. Not sure if that's quite the ambiance I was going for - perhaps I should paint it lavender, or something totally unconnected to food as I get enough cravings as it is.

I have managed to break my glasses somehow - they just fell in half when I put them on - maybe they're exhausted too. As I have no spare ones at the moment I tried out Steve's contact lenses, as I still needed to see in order to get to the opticians. They worked moderately well as long as I put them in the wrong eyes and looked out of the corner of my right eye rather than straight on.

I also tried out an old pair of specs that I found but they were 7 years old and I frankly couldn't see distance in them very well, or read, come to that. The optician told me I had a squint. I DO NOT! What a nerve - he should get his eyes checked. Anyway, they quoted me six hundred quid for a pair of specs so I'm not going back there again.

I used to wear contacts decades ago, but then my eyes rejected them drastically - I have flat eyes apparently (but emphatically not a squint). So I'm going for a contact test today to see if my eyes have improved (possible) or lenses have improved (much more likely) and wearing Steve's didn't seem too bad. By which I mean my eyes didn't immediately turn beetroot, nor did my eyelids seem to be made out of sandpaper every time I blinked, as used to be the case.

Perhaps I should get tinted ones so that my bathroom doesn't look so edible. If I get blue ones it might cancel out so I can't see any of the colour at all.......

Maybe not - I'll only end up thinking about subliminal mashed potato instead.

Running on empty, but running

Day 48

Well, so hormonal today that I had to wake up Steve to help me get up. Doesn't matter - still on the ball with the next stage of my book project. Ready to spend the day on the computer researching Agents who specialise in children's literature. Getting quite excited now.

Spent some time yesterday helping a friend of Joe's choose colour schemes for all the rooms in her new council house (well, new to her, anyway). Some people really like travel brochures, the Sunday papers, or Heat magazine to look at, but give me the latest batch of paint colour charts, and I'm a happy bunny.

I get a lot from helping people find their own style, rather than impose my own, so Donna is going to have a deep crimson and grey bedroom with a feature wall in black and white wallpaper, a purple and sand sitting room, and a green and orange kitchen complete with the Irish flag and shamrocks painted on the wall. May not be my taste - which hovers somewhere between New England cottage, Karl Larssen and retro kitsch - but it's hers and she's happy.

I suppose that living in rented accommodation (as we do now, since my husband's company went bust) is a little restrictive for me, as I can never paint a room the colour I really want - I always have to keep the landlord and future tenants in mind. My imagination can never really be allowed full reign, so it is quite a treat to be able to go and do it for somebody else. Even if their taste is miles away from my own, at least I get to play at decorating for a bit.

Still, maybe one day - if this book is a success - then I will finally have a place of my own to decorate as crazily or tastefully or outrageously or gorgeously as I want.

Better get on then, hadn't I.