Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Like trying to stuff a large octopus into a match box

That's what my life feels like at the moment with the squirming, slime laden octopus being what I want to do and the match box being the time I have available.

I know that it'll all settle down in the fullness of time as I learn to deal with shoehorning new priorities into my life (and can I just say as an aside that since the beginning of the month I have gained more and more respect for anyone who has children? My latest mantra is that starting a new business is like having a baby - it needs piles of attention and the more attention you give it the bigger it gets and the more attention it needs. But at least TSS sleeps through the night and doesn't throw up all over itself...)

At Craft Catch Up last night (where J did her ironing and K did her mending as catching up on other things took precedence over craft) I was having a wee moan about how, although I'm very lucky how life has turned out right now, the amount of change over the past year has been very very wearing and I just want it all to stop for a little while so I can catch my breath and get my bearings.

Oh - and I also wish David Jones would start stocking their homebrand socks again and Freedom would bring back their perfect black plastic coat hangers, both of which, silly me, I thought would be around for ever.On a brighter note, this arrived at work yesterday. Those of you who have been readers since the early days might remember when I found a length of black and white striped interlock for $2 and T at work offered to sew it into a top for me. And here it is. Notice cool hood - I can justify an extra black and white striped top by telling myself I don't have a striped hoodie!


Martha Craig said...

Excellent octopus analogy that fits perfectly with my life.

So I've ditched something, and the relief is huge.

Kristin said...

Oh, of course, the moment you find something you love it's discontinued or otherwise unavailable. There's an excellent passage from More Home Cooking by Laurie Colwin, talking about buying homemade bread, which is so apt.
"Maybe it won't be very good," I said to myself hopefully as I tucked one of the breads into my bag, "and then I won't be unhappy that I have no idea what it is and can never replicate it in my own kitchen."
It's exactly how I feel when trying a new hair conditioner.
Life is So Hard!