Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Colour Therapy, Mixed-Media on Paper.
This piece is about cheering up.
I've been out of sorts for the last few days. I think I'm a little bit hormonal, I feel busy, and a little bit rushed. Not enough hours in these short winter days. I probably drink too much coffee.
I am disorganised, and I can't run a house.
I am demanding. Much more than I used to be. and exasperated.
This morning I caught myself planning to impose a rule about the washing- S doesn't touch it. Ever, until it has been washed and folded and placed in the appropriate drawer. This is not because I'm a control freak. It's because I'm so incapable of order that involving someone else in my master plan is just not an option. I can't afford to leave my drawer contents declaration open to artistic interpretation...
-Because winter is an endless search for missing socks. Neither he nor I ever wear matching ones, and when we visited his mother at Christmas, a comment was made, an eyebrow was raised in my direction, and my heart was broken. Just a little bit. Because I'm trying so hard.
I have a complex about my housekeeping skills, and it might be deduced from the previous sentence, I might be just a little bit over-sensitive about it. I feel like people who run a functioning house in a relaxed cycle of washing things and putting them away are the grown-ups, and I am a grotty teenager despite the best and most earnest of efforts.
When I saw him taking socks from the line this morning, (unmatched, because of course I didn't wash both socks in the pair in the same load...) and the shriek "Step away from the socks" was manipulated into a strangled sounding "are those socks matching?" , I relised I may have taken it too far.
I may have turned into some kind of moody, nagger... which isn't as fun for anyone.
All over non-matching socks, and an untimely raised eyebrow.