Mornings in our village are icy cold, white, steamy and drippy and it takes a while to get in the swing of the day's work. Especially work which involves using hand tools and especially for us women. The other day our Sarah was up on a ladder, grinding flaking paint off a ceiling panel. The Machinist had asked her to wear a mask, but this had proved more troublesome for her "..Mam, when I wear a mask, the bits of paint falling off the ceiling hit the mask, bounce up under the protective glasses and land in my eyes. What's more - I can hardly breath. And so - I choose: Eyes or Dust up the nose? And I choose - Eyes..."
Most rooms at home are growing increasingly full with kitchen and food preparation equipment. The bigger items are stored together and on top of each other in a corner of the Workshop, which looks like a fort scene from Mad Max, the Movie. Tables and chairs are stored in the barn (I still look around caustiously when I enter - just in case, you understand? I don't want any more surprises, as I feel my shock absorbers, in the snake-discovery stakes - are thinly worn).
The other day I took the utility into town and bought a four drawer filing cabiet to house another business-worth of paperwork. Currently, my office at home has papers sprawled all over the floor. The two sofas have cardboard debris; the result of playful, teething puppies. The bench which supports the computer and printer is covered with stationary items in piles, waiting to be packed away. Most filing has been done and the drawers are organised; Paper. Notebooks. Envelopes and stamps. Computer disks. Printing cartridges. Stationary equipment. Pens, pencils, staples, clips, tacks, scissors etc. I am ready to roll.
My dedication to having workable systems at home in readiness for Opening Day doesn't come without it's down side, though. I am concerned about not spending as much time as I would like visiting the Grands. They made a BIG move by leaving Town life for Village life and they are dependent on our transporting them wherever they wish or need to go. It can't be pleasant, but they don't complain. They long to help in some way, and there isn't much they can do at this stage. Once the equipment is in the kitchen, it will need wiping down and disinfecting and I'm sure there will be a thousand and one smaller, forgotten jobs they can help with. Just not now. And so - they wait. And I feel a sense of guilt, as I know that most older folk wait around an awful lot in their senior years and that can't be nice, either.
Another not so nice occurance, when busy and tired and stressed and pushed for time and a deadline are the family arguments. Oftentimes, over the simplest of issues. Help and encouragement for me, however, comes in the form of wisdom, borne from the experience of a dear email friend (who is most keen to visit our country to sample our pies!). I am reminded to '...comfort yourselves together, and edify one another, even as also ye do..."
The puppies join us for movie watching most nights. They bounce up and down like jack-in-the-boxes at the kitchen door (sliding window). As soon as the door is pulled back, they race through to the loungeroom and make a mad scramble for prime positions on the couch. We have several couches in the movie room, but they choose to sit with the Machinist and I and we have to squash up and shift ourselves to fit and we cannot even move for canine mass. "When did it come to this, Babe? When did WE change?", he asks...