A Picayune – or, “I don’t have anything in particular to write about”

Atishoo, atishoo – we all fall down

Mostly today, the entire office will be sneezing. Or coughing. Or croaking. So why the umpity-ump are they here then, that’s what I want to know? Thank you for sharing, but this end of the building will be empty by Friday afternoon at this rate.

Medication management

I’m coming off my anti-depressants. I do not need to take them any longer – because the biggest stress factor that was in my life, is no longer in my life. Yes, there are issues where I now work, but they are not the same issues that were making my life difficult, so the chemical framework that was holding me up and stopping me from falling apart is no longer needed. When I say falling apart, I do mean that. Only a few people were aware of how badly I was coping with life, and for them, I thank them from the bottom of my heart for keeping me going.

I emailed a friend today, to say that I’ve done a huge amount of work on myself in the past five to six weeks. I’m not going to put a hex on my life and say that I won’t ever have another visit from Rufus, because you simply don’t know. But what I do know is that I now have the space and the time to get to the gym. To not drink coffee. To go for a walk at lunchtime, even if I just whizz home, hang the washing out, get another load going, I’m outside. Changing my employers has given me back so much time, it’s ridiculous. I was hanging washing out at 8:05, but still at my desk at 8:15 this morning.

One thing I wondered about, was how I could coach people to live their best lives and organise them, when I couldn’t even cope with my life? But then, my life is mine. My issues are mine. I can see through to the heart of other people’s problems and advise them accordingly, but the overriding factor in my life that was stuffing it up, I couldn’t do anything about until I left it. Now I have left it, well pink fluffy bows and pussy cats, I’m never going to be normal, but goodness I feel like me again.


Yesterday we had our annual ‘We are turning two’ birthday party with our Mother’s group. What a wonderful bunch of people we are, even if I do say so myself. We only have our children’s birth date in common, but the friendship between the lot of us is wide-ranging, fills gaps and is just glorious.

What was so, so lovely though was seeing the little glimpses of the people that the toddlers will become. Two year old tantrums aside, it’s just a phase after all, they’re beautiful children who chattered and played together happily. Hubs and I had some really good conversations with the adults all across the room, some people we hadn’t seen for months, but it didn’t matter.

Do you want a laugh? We came home with the same present we left with, so it was a good job it wasn’t something either of us minded Peanut having and playing with. He’d evidently see the wrapping paper, and thought ‘That’s mine!’ so industriously ripped it open before either of us could shove back into the middle of the ring for an alternative.

Wallace and Gromit

Oh boy, while both Hubs and I love the cartoons, we’re nearing the point of being sick of the sight of them. I had them on my phone for commute cheering purposes, and put one of them on one night for Peanut. He went potty for them. I ordered the DVDs from a website, using his birthday voucher from my brother. He can’t get enough of them, which as he’s also taken to waking up before 5am for the past 3-4 nights (no it’s fine, really >:/ ) were very handy when Hubs and I remained in bed and were comatose on Sunday morning for an extra hour.

A weekend away

This weekend we’re heading up to see Hanno in his play. I’ve got a cat sitter coming in, potential burglars. The list has begun, the spare bed is going to get slowly lost under a sea of stuff that will somehow get put into our car, and driven to NSW. I am determined to not siege pack, but then when I don’t take heaps of things for Peanut, that is when we end up having to go out and buy it. Like bibs when he decides to teethe over a weekend, or gets ill with a sore throat, so doesn’t want to swallow, and we don’t have any proper pain relief for him, because you can’t buy it for babies from a supermarket. Yet again, we will look like we’re moving house. We always do. At least we’re going up on the Friday, not having to worry about swimming on the Saturday and then leaving, that was too much for my brain to cope with organising.

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